Float
by Unknown Soldier Shadow
Summary: "You think all of the evil is gone from this place? You're wrong. It's coiled so deeply within our dark hearts that we can't even feel it. You can't even tell it's there until you see the monster's face, and by then it's far too late." Sequel to Sidestep
1. Dreams and Nightmares

**Weeeeeeeeeeeeelcome! Welcome to Float!**

**So, I have to say, if you're here for the first time: Hey! Youuuuu probably don't want to read this right now. You should definitely go and read my story Sidestep first, as this is the sequel. I mean, you_could _read it if you really want but...you won't understand. XD**

**So! Down to brass tacks!**

**This is gonna be another long one. I'm talking 100K+ We're gonna be aiming for another 300 reviews! So let's do it, guys!**

**I don't have any reviews yet, so...no review replies. XD Funny how that works. X3**

**Anyway!**

**Let us begin the story~! With a quote from the song this entire story is based off of! "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday**

**EDIT: Well, there used to be song lyrics here, but do to copyright infringement, I thought it would be much better to leave a nice quote for the people actively looking not for good and well-written stories, but for needlessly stupid reasons to flag fics. So here you go.**

**"I do desire we may be better strangers."**

****_As You Like It, _Act 3, Scene 2****

* * *

><p>The starless night sky echoed with the howls of dying cats.<p>

Declan raced through the forest, his heart in his throat. All he could hear were the heaving, thudding pawsteps of the cats chasing them and the sound of his own pounding heart.

_They're going to kill me, _he thought wildly.

The ground was sandy underfoot, impossible to get a good hold in. Declan dove down the side of the hill, where the grass clung in bristly patches like loose fur. Beneath him, he could see the silvery glow of water, hear the soft rushing of it, smell the high bitter taste of it.

He dived down the hillside, using studded rocks as footholds. He hit the bank of the river with a thud, whipping around to see the howling shapes of cats, wraithlike in the dark misty air.

He turned towards the brook, eyes wide, chest heaving with fear, and dove into it.

The iciness of it hit him like a physical wall. It crushed the breath from his lungs, paralyzed his limbs as if he'd been electrocuted. Everything was dark, dark, dark, rushing bubbles pushing up his whiskers as they forced their way out of his open throat, allowing water to pour in. He choked, coughing and spluttering, clawing his way to the surface.

He broke into the air with a great gasp of breath. Blind from water trickling into his eyes, he made out in the direction he thought the opposite bank was, churning the turbulent water with his paws.

Soft sand scraped beneath his pads as he hauled himself up onto shore.

The night air cut into his fur like glass. He shivered violently, water dripping out of his eyes, mouth, and nose as he lay there for a moment, recovering.

"_There he is!"_ someone hissed from behind him.

Declan shoved himself to his paws and careened into the forest without a backwards glance.

There was snow on the ground here, pockets of it that caught into his soaked fur, twisting it into crystals of ice. The cold was so overbearing, seeping into his skin, into his bones. His lungs burned from running and from the water he could feel clinging to his throat, making him cough. They'd hear him for sure, he thought as he slumped against a tree trunk, attempting wildly to catch his breath. It was impossible for him to be quiet now.

The forest was deadly silent. Declan didn't trust it for a moment.

He moved on after a moment, reluctantly confident that he was undetected here. He kept his head low, his eyes watchful, taking in everything around him with suspicion. The trees were dark, shadowed somehow with a thick curtain of mist, and the ground was thick green grass here.

He turned around, blinking. Over there, snow was still on the ground. The trees were bare of leaves, looking like nothing but a batch of sticks clawing the air.

But here…

The forest was silent completely. Not even Declan's pawsteps made a noise; he could feel each impact, the soft give of the grass beneath his paws, but it was absolutely soundless. It was as if he'd walked into a bubble in which there was only the forest and the night, with nothing in between.

_Strange, _he thought now as he walked at a more leisurely pace. The forest didn't seem very threatening now, and the danger of his pursuers was fading into the back of his mind. The path beneath his paws was well-scented with something he couldn't quite distinguish: a thick, mellow smell, like decomposing tree bark. It coated his tongue in an acrid layer.

Ahead of him shone a glimmer of light. Declan squinted at it, head to one side as he tried to figure out what it was. It flickered slightly, dancing between the leaves of the undergrowth.

He picked up his pace until he was trotting steadily towards it, eyes half-lidded against a layer of suddenly thick air. The smell sharpened in his nostrils, turning into something stronger, more powerful.

_Smoke, _he realized, with a thrill of horror.

The light up ahead roared into fullness now, a crackling thunderhead of flames and lightning. It lashed out over him, coating the air above him in a tumult of dangerous sky, turning the night red. Declan yowled, back-stepping quickly, but the cloud engulfed him. He felt it compress around him, strangling him, suffocating. He could scarcely breathe as it flooded into his lungs, so much more powerful and horrifying than the water that had been there not so long ago.

"Help!" Declan yowled, but the sound was lost in the roar of the fire. It fell down around him, licking at his flanks, scorching his fur, until he was drowning it in and there was fire everywhere and the smoke was in his head blocking his thoughts and—

A pair of malicious yellow eyes glinted at him through the whirlwind of fire. _"You are mine," _a sibilant voice hissed in Declan's head.

"No!" Declan shrieked, and suddenly everything was quiet.

He was standing in the woods, just out of view of the Warren. There was no fire, no lightning or screeching. It was a calm, normal night, the sounds of owls calling in the distance and the rush of wind ruffling his ear fur. Above him, the nearly full moon shone down on him, flooding the ground with soft white light.

Declan stood stock-still, chest heaving, eyes watering. _Was I…sleepwalking?_

The dream had seemed so real, so lifelike. He could still smell the harsh tang of smoke, see the flickering fire. It still burned behind his eyelids.

As well as those yellow eyes, glowing like hot coals.

Head aching, Declan pushed that to the back of his mind. He couldn't deal with that—not again. Not when everything had almost seemed back to normal. Shaking his fur out, he turned and headed back to the Warren, paws feeling suddenly leaden.

Six moon cycles had passed. Six moon cycles full of peace, calm, and the cold season. Now at the very end of it, the snow was just beginning to melt, to clear the ground and allow for grass and flowers to spring up, though the cold chill still lingered in the air. Six moon cycles and Declan still couldn't get the smell of blood out of his nostrils. He still couldn't rid himself of the gut-wrenching agony of the smoke treatment's side-effects, ones that he'd been trying so desperately to hide from Twist.

Twist. She didn't suspect him at all, he didn't think. Even after being with her for what felt like forever, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. What would she think of him? Would she think him weak that he couldn't control his own mind? His own body? This wasn't the first time he had woken up in the woods, fighting enemies that existed only in his dreams.

After that day when she'd come back to him—the brightest and clearest day in Declan's entire life—he was still so uncertain. He had to keep her with him, at all costs. What if he told her about this and she decided she couldn't trust him anymore? It would surely break him.

_Twist wouldn't do that, _the reasonable side of his brain whispered to him, but he couldn't stop that cowardly fear from coiling in his chest like an adder. Six moon cycles and he couldn't shake the fear that he would do something unforgiveable: what if, in the grips of a nightmare, he turned his claws against Twist? He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

The Warren's gate was empty. No one stood guard much these days; the Claws hadn't bothered them since the morning after the battle. Declan still remembered that day clearly.

_He walked into camp, Twist at his side, to see Lucky speaking to the entirety of the group._

_"The Claws will be released from our hold," he said, his dark gaze sweeping the wounded cats there. "If you require assistance, the Sliders will provide it for you. Otherwise, we kindly request that you depart from our lands and never return. I am afraid we will have to take drastic measures to make sure you stay away."_

_The Claws, clustered in a tight pack around Sorrow, looked nervous. For the first time that Declan could remember, they were frightened. Utterly leaderless and broken, they didn't look like they knew what to do next._

_Sorrow wasn't much help. Her marked eyes were filled with a depthless emotion; she looked lost, as if she didn't know how she got there or what she was doing. Bronze was sitting further away from her, eyes burning with hatred. The Shredder was missing completely._

_Lucky padded up to Sorrow. "Please leave now."_

_Sorrow looked up at him blankly. For the first time really, Declan saw a kind of relation between them. They were, after all, uncle and niece. Sorrow in her current state looked much more pitiable, with her wet fur and hunched shoulders, but still kept a kind of hardness about her, like a broken window. "Where will we go?" she rasped. "My father is dead. Braiser is dead. The Claws are finished."_

_Lucky's eyes hardened. "I do not know. That is for you to decide. The duty falls to you now, as his eldest kit. If you wish for the Claws to continue to survive, you must work hard. Honest work. Have your cats hunt for the weaker, the elders and queens protected, and the kits cared for. With decent work and strength, you will prevail."_

_Sorrow nodded along with his words as if in a trance. "I…I don't know if I can do it."_

_"You can. You have the same conviction as he did. Though hopefully, not the same intents." His eyes sparked. "I will not have my cats attacked. Ever again."_

_"I wanted you dead," Sorrow said softly. "I wanted you to die so that my father could live. I didn't…I didn't know that—" She stopped herself. "My father was wrong. I hated his obsession with you. I wanted to come here to kill you."_

_"I am afraid that would put quite the damper in my plans," Lucky said lightly. "I would much prefer us to remain apart. The far edge of the forests can still be Claw territory but I must request a larger portion of the woods atop the hillside. We will protect what we lay claim to. You owe it to us after we have cleansed your group of the sickness that was polluting it."_

_Bronze's hackles rose. "Watch what you're talking about," he spat. "Whether you believe he was evil or not, he was still our father."_

_"And you were his favorite son," Sorrow shot back. "Yes, we all understand that. But he's dead now and I'm in charge. If you don't like it, then leave. We might be blood but I've never liked you. A spoiled, selfish little kit dying for his father's attention. You sicken me. Sparrow's worth ten of you."_

_Bronze snarled, his teeth bared. "And what, you think you can lead us? You? You can't even run a camp without your loyalties getting all mixed up. I know you wanted cats that weren't smoke-treated just so you could twist them to your mindset!"_

_"Yes, and you ran the pits so well, didn't you, Bronze?" Sorrow's voice was painfully sarcastic. "Cats starving to death. That black Slider tom dying under your watch. You've definitely proven your worth as a leader."_

_In the crowd, Declan saw Lightfoot's head whip up and fix Bronze with a lethal look of hatred. Her vivid green eyes, calculating now, didn't waver from Bronze. She didn't even blink._

_Bronze cursed under his breath. "That was an accident."_

_"An accident. Huh. You know, I've managed to avoid accidents in my running of a camp. Must just be luck." Sorrow glowered at him. "You're such a waste."_

_Bronze gritted his teeth. "I don't have to take this. I'll just take control of the Claws by force!"_

_At once, the Claw guards who had been licking their wounds looked up. They rose as a single body, limping and bloody but standing, and got between Bronze and Sorrow, eyes gleaming and claws unsheathed._

_"I don't think that's going to work very well," the black tom Midnight growled._

_Lucky, who had been watching with a sort of clinical interest, said, "I think that is your answer, Bronze."_

_Bronze coiled closer to the ground, his hackles raised. "Is there no cat that will follow me?" he demanded. "None at all?"_

_The Claws didn't even blink at him. Sorrow, behind their lines, watched her brother with smug, gleaming eyes._

_Bronze let out a furious hiss. Whipping to Lucky, he demanded, "And what of the Sliders? Am I allowed among your ranks?"_

_Lucky's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely you are joking."_

_"Why would I be? I'm the one who told them where to find my father." He jerked his chin in Declan and Twist's direction; Declan felt Twist jump in surprise._

_"To save your own skin. I do not believe that is what they call bravery."_

_Bronze's hackles were so high now it looked like he had a stripe of darker fur against his tabby pelt. "So I am to go with the Claws?"_

_"That is your choice, no one else's. I hope you think seriously."_

_"Don't think you're welcome here," Sorrow spat. "I've had it with you. I only put up with you because Father doted on you. Now that he's dead, I have no need for you. Do what you want, but if you come with us, be prepared to fight. I'll turn you out like a rotten piece of meat."_

_Growling viciously, Bronze arched his back at his sister but Midnight and Zib moved forward at the same moment, blocking him from attack. Bronze snarled at them wildly but they didn't even twitch._

_"Sorry, friend," Zib said, painful irony in his voice. "You best be on your way. Our leader has spoken."_

_Bronze jerked back. Casting his eyes around the clearing, he looked for someone to speak for him, someone to take him in, but no one said a word. The eyes of the entirety of the Claws and Sliders both were on him, watching, judging, and Declan could see the physical effect it was having on him._

_"You know what?" Bronze said. "Fine. Fine. I don't need you anyway. I can find my own way. And I'll be much more successful than the both of your rotten gangs together."_

_"Good luck," Sorrow said, sardonically sweet, and Bronze snapped his teeth at her, only to be sent rolling by Zib._

_Gathering himself to his paws, clutching at the shreds of his dignity, Bronze stalked towards the exit. "You will regret this," he growled beneath his breath. And then he disappeared out into the new morning._

_Lucky said, "Well, I believe you are in luck with the exit of that cat. He seems like quite the bad egg. I imagine he has more of my brother's blood than it would appear."_

_Sorrow, still watching him leave, said, "I would imagine so as well." Then she turned to him. "We will comply with your demands. There will be no more attacks by the Claws."_

_"Good. I would also like to see the remaining Sliders released from your control."_

_Sorrow dipped her head. "Fine."_

_"Thank you, Sorrow."_

_Sorrow curled her lip, still too proud to accept Lucky's words, then turned, flicked her tail for her cats to follow, and was gone._

Now, even so many moon cycles later, Declan could still remember the healing process of that deal. River and Gravel, returned to the Sliders, were ragged and skinny, clearly underfed. Twist had greeted the two of them as if they were kin, with all the affection he had seen her bestow upon Viktor. Flint came back a few days later, seeming more reluctant than his gangmates. In the moon cycles after, Declan would often catch him lost in thought. He was quieter, calmer. He was no longer the scatterbrained cat he had been before his capture—he had grown somehow, matured into an adult. And he had taken over Snit's position as the Sliders' healer, taking up residence in the healing den with the help of Kite and an extremely reluctant Audrey.

The ginger she-cat had been so quiet after the battle had ended. For days and days, she had said barely anything to anyone, keeping to herself. She was slowly sinking down into herself, curling into a tiny ball in the deepest corner of her heart. Declan thought sometimes when he looked into her eyes, he was looking through her, as if her eyes were dusky green windows with nothing on the other side.

In fact, he hadn't even seen her the day before. He generally sought her out and forced a few words out of her everyday but he couldn't find her. No one had even seen her. That worried Declan. After Snit's death, she seemed so broken. He was afraid that the slightest wind would shatter her into a thousand pieces and no one would be able to put her back together again.

The coldness of the night raked through Declan's pelt as he ducked into the metal tunnel, the worn ground smooth beneath his pads. He could almost find his way around the Warren with his eyes closed: at the end of the tunnel, he would turn right, taking a pathway down among a twisting spiral of box-nests, down to where the warmest sections were. He and Twist had the nest between one shared by Max and Marco—now best friends bonded with enemy's blood—and Vivian's. The tiny white she-cat had decided to stay with the Sliders after all, as if the battle had charged her blood with adrenaline she couldn't get rid of. She was constantly trying to get onto patrols with Lucky, learning everything he would teach her with an open-mindedness that was shocking coming from the little cat. She had proven herself to be a highly capable hunter, able to sneak down into the smallest crack to get at mice and rats.

Declan hesitated at the entrance to the den, one paw in mid-air. What if Twist had been awoken by his sudden departure? He couldn't remember standing up. All his dreams opened the same way: he was always running from something, too terrified to turn and fight. At the end, he would always be standing in the woods somewhere, confused and disoriented.

Shaking it off, tiredness bone-deep, he ducked his head under the flap of the box-nest and crept inside on gentle paws.

Twist was curled away from him, the curve of her shoulder visible from the little gap she had cut in the roof of the nest, allowing a pool of moonlight into the darkness. The light of the moon lit her dark tortoiseshell fur silver, framing each hair as if it were coated in white fire. Her gentle breathing filled the nest, calming him at once.

Declan dropped to his belly, resting his chin on the ground. He watched her, the slight rise of her breathing, the twitching of one front paw as she dreamed, the flick of an ear as a draft hit her. She was almost indescribably beautiful in the moonlight. She was everything he had never known he wanted in a she-cat—brave, confident, alternating between playful scorn and undiluted affection as quick as he could blink. Everything she said, everything she did, made him fall in love with her all over again.

He sighed before he could help it.

Twist rolled around onto her other shoulder until she was facing him. Her white-streaked face was cut with shadows from the angle of the light, but her eyes were still closed. Still sleeping.

Declan curled his paws against his chest to repress the desire to touch that peaceful expression on her face. If only he could borrow some of this sleepy tranquility. Perhaps it would soothe his heart and mind of all his worries.

Twist's eyes opened slightly, the gold just glittering slits. "Declan?" she asked blearily.

And now he reached out for her, pressing his paw so gently against her cheek. "I'm here."

"Where'd you go?"

His heart froze. All his worst nightmares made real. "I needed some air."

"Bad dreams?" She already sounded like she was falling back asleep.

Declan let out a humorless hum of laughter. "Something like that."

Twist scooted up to him, resting her head on his outstretched forepaw. Yawning widely, her bristling whiskers brushing his face, she snuggled into his chest fur. "You should wake me up next time. I'll sit up with you."

He brushed his muzzle between her ears. "I didn't want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully." He rested his nose on her forehead for a moment, realizing that he could be with Twist like this every night for the rest of his life. It sent a little tingle of happiness down his spine. "Go back to sleep."

She didn't need much persuasion. Resting her nose in his fur, she murmured sleepily, "Love you."

Declan looked at her. At this angle, her eyelashes looked so delicate. Like soft downy feathers. "I love you, too," he whispered to her.

But she was already asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Declan was awakened by a paw on his cheek, pushing his fur up to cover his eye. Blinking open the other one, he saw Twist with a mischievous expression. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice garbled by her squishing.

"You were talking in your sleep," she said.

Jerking upright, he demanded, "What did I say?"

With a totally straight expression, she said, "You expressed a passionate desire to become a mouse. It was actually quite moving."

He laughed. "I'm so sure."

"Don't worry. This is a no-judgment zone. If you want to be a mouse, you can if you'd like."

"If I were a mouse, what would that make you?" he teased, nudging her shoulder. "The hunter waiting to catch me?" He stretched his legs behind him, one by one, feeling the sweet strain of his muscles.

Behind him, he heard her say, "No. I'd be a mouse, too. Of course." He turned to her too see a slanted kind of glittering look on her face that made his pelt flush hot.

_Stars, I love her, _he thought. He pressed his forehead to hers, purring. "Shall we go find out the schedule for today?"

Her eyes looking up into his, she said, "Race you."

They tore to Lucky's den with Declan in the lead. At the very last second, Twist sidestepped him, whipping out a paw and knocked him to his side just as they reached the tunnel. Leaping lightly over him, she slowed to a leisurely trot, smirking at him over her shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, Declan followed her.

Lucky was standing in the middle of his den. He was as striking-looking as usual; his creamy tan pelt, now marked with shiny scars, was cut through with darker tabby stripes, including one that shot down his spine like a shadow. His dark eyes, framed with similar dark markings, flicked to Declan's as he walked in, a kind of easy delight lighting in those nearly black eyes. "Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.

Declan liked this new Lucky. The battle had changed him, brought out his real personality, though the one that Wisp sunk into him turned this buoyant Lucky into a weird kind of formality: despite whatever unexpected thing came out of his mouth, it was always said with complete decorum. "Good morning."

"What are we supposed to do today?" Twist, as usual with any other cat but him, got right to the point.

Lucky put his head to the side. "I would like you, Declan, Marco, and Max to patrol around the territory by the brook."

Declan frowned. "Have the Claws been around there?"

Lucky shook his head. "Not as of late. But I would like to make sure that the status stays, as they say, quo. Yes, I would like the status to remain very quo."

"We can keep it quo," Declan assured him, lips twitching.

Lucky didn't seem to understand Declan was teasing him. "Thank you. That would be very fine."

"Why Marco and Max?" Twist asked.

"I believe they are in need of some, er, guidance."

"Meaning that they're getting under the pelts of all the Sliders?" Twist translated.

Lucky put an ear behind him nervously. "Er, yes. I believe that would be an accurate description."

Twist sighed. "Alright. We can take them with us."

"Very well. Try to head all the way down our section of the brook. Remember, it ends when you meet the willow grove."

"Yes, we remember." Declan turned to go but Lucky stopped him.

"If you can, will you hunt? I will send out other hunting parties but we cannot spare any prey that we might find. Every bit of it is precious when the cold season is like this."

"Understood," Twist said curtly. "Come on, Declan."

As Declan said his goodbyes to Lucky, he couldn't help wondering about Twist. Why was it that she only showed her softer side to him? Didn't she want to have friends? Regardless of her standoffish nature, she had accumulated friends within the Sliders—Vivian, Audrey, River and Gravel, Kite and Viktor, her new little tagalong Streak, who was now considered almost old enough to go outside. Declan didn't seem to have the same problem with friends—even though most of the ones he had were shared with Twist. He and River had grown closer since the red tom's return, though they didn't share nearly the same depth of a bond as he and Twist did.

In a way, Declan wondered if Twist was friends with so many older toms because she was looking for a father in them. She had never really had the best of kithoods—not like his own pampered pet life—so perhaps it was that. She certainly seemed to think that Viktor in particular hung the moon, the way she drank in his every word as if it were precious.

Marco and Max were still sleeping when they reached their den. Marco, who outweighed Max now almost double, was sprawled out across the entire floor, his tail and one hind paw hooked over Max's shoulders. Max was curled into a neat little ball, his tail tucked over his nose. He didn't seem bothered by his friend's pokey feet, though his only remaining ear twitched as Marco's tail flipped over his face.

Declan couldn't help the sadness he felt when he looked at Max. The poor little scrap was still tiny, small and lithe like a cat half his age, but the scars that curved down under one eye and across the tattered remains of his ear aged him.

Twist shook Marco first, who awoke with a startled snort. He kicked reflexively, knocking Max right in the shoulder and sending him spinning across the floor, rolling to a stop at Declan's paws.

He opened his eyes, looking disoriented. "Morning," he greeted almost unintelligibly.

"Morning," Declan replied. "Time for a patrol."

"This early?" Marco heaved himself into a sitting position, shaking out his black-and-white pelt. He yawned widely, scratching an ear with his hind paw, and then asked, "What are we doing?"

"Brook patrol. We're going to hunt afterwards, too."

"Okay!" Max bounced to his paws, eager as usual. It was good that his injuries hadn't dampened his spirit, Declan thought, as the group made their way out of the Warren and into the woods. Something as serious as getting mauled like that could have easily crushed a cat with a weaker heart.

The forest seemed so unlike his nightmares. It was bright, sunny. The clouds above were soft and white, unlike the unrelenting gray of snow-swollen skies. Even the ground below felt warmer, as the soft dirt was being heated from below. It was such a pleasant day. Today's hunting would be good for sure.

Twist was chatting to Max about hunting skills. Despite his injury, the young white tom's hearing had been undamaged. He could hunt almost better than Marco, who was too impatient to be very good at anything that took time and concentration. He had shown his prowess in battle, though that was becoming a forgotten skill as peace wore steadily on, like a soft warm breeze.

Declan sighed happily. He was out in the forest, it was a beautiful day, and Twist was beside him. It couldn't get better than this.

_And this could be everyday for the rest of our lives, _he thought. He glanced over at Twist, a little surprised to see her looking at him, too. Her expression became infinitely softer when their eyes met.

Declan sighed again.

"Hey!" Max yowled. "I see something!"

That broke Twist away. Cuffing him over his good ear, she growled, "Well, if I was prey, now it sees you too, bumblepaws."

"It's not prey." Marco, who had run up ahead to look through the breaks in the trees, sounded very odd. Stiff somehow.

Declan pushed his way forward, nudging his way through the undergrowth. He squinted, seeing something further on in the forest, just off the path in a feathery patch of long grass. Stepping over a fallen branch, he found himself in enough room to look down at whatever it was.

His heart froze in his chest immediately.

It was a cat, a tom. His brown tabby fur was ripped and soaked with blood, a larger drying puddle pooling beneath his stiff limbs. His eyes, marked eyes, stared blankly up into the sky. His paws were curled into claws, stretching out in front of him as if he was reaching for something. He was very clearly dead.

"Twist!" Declan called, his voice high with panic.

She was at his side in an instant. She let out a noise then, half-gagging, half-gasping. "Stars," she whispered. "That's…it's…"

Declan said grimly, "It's Bronze."

No one had seen the former Claw in the past six moon cycles. In the short, terse meetings between Sorrow and Lucky, she had reported him as missing as Wisp still was. No one had said a word about his whereabouts. No one had had a clue.

Though, Declan thought, that was not a problem now.

Max let out a squeak that sounded almost kit-like. Clearing his throat in embarrassment, his pelt spiking with horror, he said, "He's dead!"

"We've noticed," Marco said thinly. "What killed him? A badger?"

"I don't know," Twist said. "We need to get him back to camp."

"Move him?" Marco sounded stunned. "But he's all…stiff and bloody!"

"We can't just leave him out here," Declan said, immediately coming to Twist's defense. "Whether anyone thinks he was a good cat or not, he was still a cat. Still one of us. He doesn't deserve to lay out here and get eaten by scavengers."

Max, half-slunk behind Twist, peeked around and said, "What if a cat killed him?"

The thought disgusted Declan. "We don't know that for sure," he said gently. "Let's not assume anything, okay? Now let's get him back to camp."

"I'm not touching that," Marco protested. "He's basically ant-food now. I don't want to—"

"You'll do it or you'll be on dirt-cleaning duty for the rest of your life," Twist growled. "So shut up and pick a side. We'll all carry him."

Marco, looking rather mollified by Twist's threat, gingerly grabbed Bronze's scruff. His nose wrinkled, whiskers bristling, but he complied without another word.

Declan grabbed the other side, nodding to Twist, and they were all off.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Gasps of horror met them when they pulled Bronze's body into the Warren. As if he'd been summoned by the atmosphere of disbelief, Lucky appeared, Viktor and Kite at his side. His eyes widened more than Declan had ever seen them go as he rushed forward.

"Oh my," he said faintly. "We need to get him into a den right now. Viktor, tell Flint to prepare for a body. Get someone else to help—Willow or Jenny will do—and tell them to be ready. Kite, if you will spread this crowd away. I will speak to them on the machine-paw tower." To Declan and Twist, he added, "To the healing den, please. I will be down shortly." He walked away, raising his voice to speak to the Sliders, "If you will come to me, I would like to speak to you, please!"

It was difficult to get Bronze's body through the tunnel but they accomplished it, sliding down the smooth tunnel into the healing den. It was well-lit as usual, Lucky's bizarre genius at work, and Flint was standing in the center of the den with a pile of what looked like wet moss and herbs.

Flint looked immediately shocked, his jaw dropping. "Bronze!"

Declan set down Bronze's scruff, allowing the body to flop rather alarmingly to the ground. "We found him on the brook's side just inside the forest. He was already dead."

"Clearly!" Flint went to work, using the moss to clean away the dried blood from the body. Willow, a silky gray she-cat, helped him, rubbing sweet-smelling herbs across Bronze's fur, making the smell seem less offensive. It didn't take long before they had finished, arranging the body to make Bronze look more peaceful and less horrifying.

Lucky slid down the tunnel, Viktor just behind him. He surveyed the body with critical eyes, taking in the deep wounds at Bronze's neck and throat, his chest, his flanks. "How did this happen?" he asked softly when he was finished, sitting down delicately and turning politely to Declan and Twist.

Declan related the entire story, with Twist and Marco chiming in with more specific details. Max seemed far too distracted by Bronze's glazed open eyes than the story; Flint noticed this, passing a paw over Bronze's face to gently close his eyes.

Lucky waited for them to finish, thinking it over, then said, "Flint, what do you believe killed this cat?"

_This cat, _Declan thought. _As if he doesn't know who Bronze is. He's his nephew!_

"A cat, definitely." Flint brushed a paw across Bronze's throat, parting the fur there. "These are kill-marks. Like you'd use to hunt prey. Bronze was taken by surprise in this attack. At first, anyway. He fought back. Look." He pried Bronze's claws back, pulling out a patch of white fur.

Lucky bent to sniff it. "I cannot detect a scent," he said softly.

"It has been a few days since Bronze died," Flint explained. "All the scent is gone."

"Hmm." Lucky straightened his back, sitting completely still for a moment, before saying matter-of-factly, "It appears that our peace is over."

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaay! How's that for a set-up? XD And da fluff~ Float: Now with eighty-percent more fluff! XD~!<strong>

**So I've only got twelve days of freedom left, guys. T~T Fwirl's starting school tomorrow so I'm gonna be soooo bored all day long with no one to talk to. You guys should just review lots or PM me so I'll have some sort of contact. XD**

**I was going to say something here but now I forgot. Ummmm...**

**RANDOM FACT TIME!**

**Did you know that Pancho Villa's last words were, "Don't let it end like this! Tell them I said something!"? No? NOW YOU DO.**

**I'm really too nerdy for my own good, I think. I've got a whoooooole bunch of last words memorized. I hope I do last words well. I mean, I've only killed off like three cats in this story. I might need to fix that problem. }:3**

**Oh! And tufted titmouse, CONGRAAATS~! You win the challenge! You were the 300th reviewer! -throws confetti- So now you get to pick what you want a oneshot to be about! Three rules: has to be Warriors, it's not something really weird, and it can't be about this latest series of books, as I have not read them. Kay? KAY!**

**So I think I'll go do something now. Something to prove that I do indeed still have a life. Or at least, the remains of one. XD**

**You know what to do!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	2. Comfort and Torment

**Hmm. Not very happy with how this chapter turned out but it's really long, so hopefully there's some good bits hidden among the...not-so-good stuff. XD**

**Goooooooosh, lots of reviews. I didn't know I'd get so many on the first chapter. -very happy-**

**Queen of the Pens - You are indeed the first reviewer! Haha, hopefully you'll like it. X3**

**theDiabolical - Dude, you can read fics on your phone? :O I didn't know that! I knew about "arcane" but only because of Arcanine. XD**

**Rapidfeather - Heehee~ You're so nice to me! XD But this one just totally fell into my head. It might be a bit controversial later, I guess, plot-wise. But hopefully you guys won't ditch me for it. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Heehee! I'm glad you liked it! XD**

**Before The Winter's Dawn - Oh, you're already all started with college again? I've got ten days left of freeeeeedom! XD Mmm, I don't think they'll meet the Clans in this one. It would be very difficult to finagle that - not to mention I have no clues where this would be in the canon series. XD**

**tufted titmouse - Sure! Take all the time that you need! Oooh, yeah, that would be a problem; I haven't read the newest series but the first book. XD Braiser's ghost? Hmm...maybe. XD Just kidding.**

**A fallen tree - Heehee! I figure, if you're gonna write something, make it nice and long! Aaw, you lost interest? Was it something I said? -overly dramatic- Inorite? I hated Bronze for his devious...deviousness. XD**

**ponyiowa - Hee! Thanks! And here ya go!**

**xKarjax - Haha, thanks! :D**

**LegendaryHero - A year! You think it'll take that long to write it? XD Oh yeah, Float's probably gonna be darker than Sidestep...but fluffier! XD Eeehhhh! You frustrate me, Hero! I feel like I must always work hard for your approval! I told you, I'mma write such a beautifully tragic chapter in Float that it makes you cry MANLY TEARS OF MANLINESS! You just wait. XD**

**AwesomeCoolPerson - Tomatoes? :O My grandfather DIED from tomato-throwing! ... Lol/jk. Did I get you? No? This is the internet and you can see the punchline to my joke? Huh. Well this is awkward. XD**

**SoccerGeek7699 - Fix Declan? But he's sooooo much funner when he's broken! And as for Twist's PoV, yup! This chapter is actually from her perspective. And then, further on, perhaps even a new character's PoV! :D**

**Tangleflame - Heehee! Thanks! :D**

**artemis7337 - Haha! Reviews are never weird or unhelpful! Any little bit helps - not to mentions makes me smile. X3 Hee~ You think you know the killer, do you~? -evil smile- And about the S thing, I know. I conversed with Fwirl - my RL bff but also a good fic writer on here (Fwirl Until The End) - and gave her veto-powers for titles. At first, Float was gonna be Slide because I thought it would be funny - slide = sliders - but she put her foot down and we ended up with Float. XD Not to mention, when we talk on IM, we abbreviate fics and stuff so I always had to be like, "Oh, I'm writing S right now!" and she'd be all, "Wait, S1, S2, S3, or Si?" It got very confusing. XD**

**Mintheart - Heehee! You think Sorrow? :D**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Oh, haaaaaaaaaaai, new reviewer! Hee! I'm glad you liked Sidestep! I do have a soft spot for that fic. I loved writing it so much. XD**

**Ravenshade - Hahahaha! That made me lol. XD I'm afraid that Anole and Li'l Sparrow won't be making an appearance for awhile yet. Not to mention by now, they're much older. And Anole wouldn't need any help holding down a cat now. XD I had the beginning aaaaall planned out. And now I'm trying to get through this explanatory crap to get to the good stuff. XD**

**XxJabberjayxX - You only barely got a review reply this time 'round! I just got your last review! XD I love it when funny and fluffy come together - almost as much as angsty and fluffy. XD Oh, it'll definitely be a wild ride. That's for sure. -evil smile-**

**Okay. Whew. Um, let's do a music quote, shall we~? I think I might do that every time now, since I generally listen to a single song the entire time I'm writing to keep me both focused and entertained. This time around it waaaaaaaas: "Everything You Ever" from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.**

**_"You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone."_**

****Coriolanus, Act 2, Scene 1 **_  
><em>**

* * *

><p>Twist watched as Gravel and Kent dug a hole in front of her, carefully shifting the growing piles of dirt so they wouldn't fall back in. Lucky and Flint stood nearby, with Bronze's body just past them. It was half-covered in sweet-smelling leaves, staving off the smell of death.<p>

Gravel stopped digging for a moment, listing to the side, and Declan jumped into the hole to take his place. He helped the older tom out of the grave, hoisting him up on his shoulders, and Twist grabbed Gravel's scruff from there and tugged him onto solid ground.

"Thanks," he gasped, out of breath. He fell half-slumped to the ground, his eyes squinted. He had lost a lot of weight, Twist thought as she stood near him, her tail flicking from side to side with discomfort. He had been released, as Sorrow had promised, along with River and a few other Sliders Twist hadn't known well. He hadn't been smoke-treated by the Claws—thank the stars—but he _had _been put under severe strain, working deep in the guard's headquarters as a hunter and a cleaner. The Rogue, disdainful of Gravel's friends and probably Gravel himself, had kept him out of sight.

The grave was finished quickly, just as dusk was settling over the forest. They had picked a quiet spot, well-shaded in the hot season and high enough to avoid heavy snowfall. It was a place where most of the fallen Sliders were buried, including the ones who had died during the battle against the Claws. For a cat to be buried here, alongside his kin and gangmates, was an honor.

One that Twist didn't think Bronze deserved.

The others seemed to have agreed with her, because this grave was on the far side of the field, where the ground was looser, sandier, than the rest of the places.

Declan and Kent crawled out of the grave and then it was time for Twist to do her part. She shoved a mix of saved dried maple leaves, moss, and herbs into the bottom of the grave, coating the ground in an even spread so the body wouldn't have to sit on the dirt.

Flint and Declan lowered Bronze into the grave, gently setting him among the leaves. Declan left at once, curling his tail around Twist's. She knew he didn't like this, anything about it. Not the fact that a cat was dead or that it was an enemy—especially if that enemy was the one who was so high in Claw rankings.

Flint, however, lingered behind. He arranged Bronze's limbs into a more natural position, laying his tail across his flanks, closing his eyes. Standing there for a silent moment, he said softly, "Should we say the rites?"

The final rites, given to Sliders fallen in battle, was something only the close relatives or friends of a fallen cat ever heard. Twist, upon attending Kip's burial, had heard them only once. Soft, gentle words, those of love and loss, were said over the body before burial. Those attending sometimes left shells from the brook or nest-feathers as parting gifts.

Would Bronze be honored like a Slider?

Lucky stared down at the grave for a long moment, his dark eyes looking like pits in his face. "No," he said, turning away in that moment. Still facing the brook, he added, "Finish this up. It is time to return to the Warren."

Flint's eyes dropped back down to Bronze. He seemed unhappy with Lucky's decision but said nothing, climbing up out of the grave to help push in the churned earth. Within just a few kicks of dirt, Bronze's face was covered, then his body in a fine layer, until the grave was completely filled. Flint dropped a stone marker onto the top of the dark earth, positioning it with careful paws.

"What's the point in that?" Gravel growled. "This cat tortured others for fun. He was sadistic."

"He's still dead," Flint said calmly. "He deserves a place for rest."

Twist's hackles rose and she smoothed them back with difficulty. It was so easy to stereotype all Claws as being like Bronze, even though she had barely known him. She had seen enough to know that he wasn't a good cat, an enemy to those whom she loved, so he had to be stopped. Whether that was going with his sister Sorrow or leaving the forest was up to him. She told herself that she should be sorry that he was dead but she wasn't. He could have killed somebody.

They went back to the Warren in silence. Twist was acutely aware of the grave dirt still clinging to her paws and legs, the smell of those sweet herbs that did not entirely mask the scent of death, the eyes of the Sliders on her as they entered the gate.

Lucky turned to them. "You have all done good work. Please get some rest. We will have a simple day of hunting tomorrow." He turned half-away, Viktor stepping up to his side.

"Aren't you going to say anything to them?" he asked, nodding to where most of the gang had emerged with curious eyes.

Lucky followed his gaze, then dropped his gaze to the ground. "They already know the circumstances."

"But what about Bronze's killer?" Twist whispered. "What are we going to say about that?"

Lucky shook his head slowly, his eyes unseeing. "I do not know yet. Please, I need a moment. We will speak tomorrow." Before anyone could say anything else, he was gone down the metal tunnel, disappearing into the gloom.

Twist watched him, unable to fight back a feeling of disappointment. She was so sure that he was improving as a leader but then he would do things like this, keeping information that didn't need to be kept secret. Hoarding secrets like treasures. Just like Wisp did.

She hadn't seen the old she-cat since the end of the battle and didn't want to. If there was any justice in the world, she was alone and miserable somewhere, picking off fleas and ticks from her mangy pelt. After all she'd done—playing with cats' lives just for the fun of it, the power-trip—she deserved nothing more than to be lonely.

Twist didn't know she was still staring off after Lucky until Declan cleared his throat significantly. She turned to him, seeing soft concern on his face. "I'm fine," she said, before he asked anything.

Amused, he said, "You don't agree?"

Twist turned her head away. "I just think that a leader should tell cats what's going on. How else are we going to keep everyone on our side if they don't know anything?"

"Very true." He put his head to the side. "Is that what you'd do? If you were the leader?"

Twist laughed. "I wouldn't ever presume to be a leader," she said. "I wouldn't want to be one. I'd make a pretty terrible one, at the very most. At the least, I'd lead us all off a gorge or something."

"Yeah. You'd bring us all to certain demise." He nudged her shoulder. "Come on, cheer up. There's nothing to be done for now. Let's go hunt."

"There's a killer on the loose and you want to catch mice?" she asked dryly.

"There's nothing we can do now. There's no point to obsess over it."

Twist pulled a face. "I'd prefer not to get murdered. It would put an awful damper on, you know, the rest of my life."

"I'll protect you," Declan said, bumping her shoulder with his muzzle. "A she-cat needs a good, strong tom to protect her."

Twist lifted her eyes to his, letting out a short hum of laughter. "You'll have to tell me where I can find a good, strong tom, then."

Declan laughed, drawing her close to him and pressing his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and allowed this moment to hold her for a moment. For just a moment, it could be peaceful once more. But deep inside her heart, as they walked back to their den to rest, Twist knew it couldn't ever go back to the way it was before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning was cold.

Twist, buried in Declan's thick back fur, snuggled even closer, turning her face to allow her cheek to rest against his warm pelt. Her nose felt like a piece of ice on her muzzle, and she rubbed her pads across it, trying to warm it with friction. They had somehow managed to press into the very back corner of their den, wrapped in a nest of feathers and long-dried moss. They had started out the night curled together but now Declan had turned around, his back to her, his paws curled up tightly against his chest.

Twist got to her paws, stepping gingerly across him, and looked outside. To her dismay, tiny white flakes were drifting out of the sky.

Just when she had thought the cold-season was over, she thought dully. The urge to walk back inside and nestle against Declan was nearly overpowering but she forced herself to trot out into the frozen early morning.

She didn't want to disturb him, especially not when he was actually been getting sleep. The past few moon cycles, his nights had been interrupted with terrible nightmares. She could hear him whimpering in his sleep sometimes, his eyes flickering restlessly beneath the lids, his claws unsheathing. Sometimes he'd even spoken.

He had last night, in fact. He had said, "Please, no," very softly. So quietly that if Twist hadn't already been laying awake thinking, she wouldn't have heard him. He had sounded so hurt, so frightened. He had been begging.

And that worried Twist far more than Bronze's death.

No one was awake yet as Twist padded down the short, winding path to the healing den. The morning was dark and gray, promising even heavier snowfall as the day wore on. It wasn't that Twist hated the snow, she didn't, but she couldn't stand it wearing on so long. The cold season had been long and bitter, and now it looked like it would be a few more moon cycles yet before the Sliders saw a break from this freeze.

The healing den was full of the sound of voices.

Twist froze, one paw in mid-air. She had been on her way to the den to find Audrey—she hadn't seen her the day before—but the voice speaking wasn't hers. It was Flint's.

"—don't understand why I have to do that," he was saying, his voice hushed but full of anger.

"I believe that it could become a problem." Twist started at the sound of Lucky's voice. What was he talking to Flint about so early in the morning?

Without really thinking, Twist flattened herself onto the ground and squirmed beneath the lip of a particularly heavy, empty box-nest. There was barely enough room for her, her chest compressed so much that it hurt to breathe, and there was about a kitten-step of open space ahead of her—just enough to make out the silhouettes of Flint and Lucky on the wall—Lucky long and pointed, the shadows of his ears stretched, and Flint smaller, rounder somehow.

"A problem that you're not going to tell the Sliders about?"

Lucky sounded uncomfortable as he said, "I do not wish to worry them needlessly. We can keep this to ourselves for now. I will keep you updated on the situation."

Flint sighed in exasperation. "I don't get you, Lucky. You were doing so well after the battle and now you're back to your old tricks. There's no need to hide anything from the Sliders. They're all trustworthy."

"I understand that," Lucky said, now with a testy edge in his mellow voice. "I do not wish to worry them. I trust every single one of them."

"Whatever," Flint snapped. "I don't think you really believe that. You're just being a coward. You're worried about it, aren't you?"

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"You think it's him! The Rogue!"

Twist gasped, a hushed sound. Pressing her mouth into her paws, as if to keep the sound inside her body, she stared with wide eyes to where Lucky's shadow started with surprise.

"You are being a fool," Lucky said coldly. "I am not a kit. I understand what happened. Unlike you, I was present when my brother died."

"When he died," Flint repeated. "Not when he disappeared. No cat found his body. Who are you to say that he's not dead?"

"Who are you to refute the fact that he is? You were too busy buddying up with the Claws to do anything! You were not here when everything was happening! You do not know what happened while you were gone, Flint! I had to fight to keep this gang together and I will not have this fact released! Do not speak of this to anyone if you wish to remain a member of this group. If you do, you may simply leave us and rejoin the Claws. I am sure they would welcome back the cat that kept the Rogue alive and healthy for so long!" He let out an annoyed hiss, the first uncultured sound that Twist had ever heard him make. "The possibility that he is alive is driving me insane! I can barely sleep at night, I cannot eat, I cannot bring myself to hunt. I have lost all the possibility of peace with this latest development! Do you understand that this is tearing my mind into shreds? Do you understand what this would mean to the Sliders? To myself?"

_I didn't know that he still thought the Rogue was alive. _Already, the possibility was making Twist's blood run cold. _But why would he only be bringing it up now? Why wouldn't he mention something earlier?_

Flint, now in a more even tone, as if Lucky's panic had had the opposite effect on him, said, "I think you need to calm down. Nothing we've found out has proven anything."

"Foreign cat scent in the area is enough to make me…agitated." Lucky's pacing was evident from this short distance, a quick rasp of paws on sand. "I cannot rest if it is assuredly not the Rogue's. I am going to lose my mind if it cannot be disproven, Flint."

"We need to remain calm. Nothing's going to change right now. Keep sending cats in that area to look for clues. It could have just been a shred of Bronze's fur that caught the air. They had similar pelts."

"Bronze's fur was darker than the Rogue's. You believe I do not remember the pelt of my own brother?"

"I didn't say anything like that. Just…don't panic. We need to tell the Sliders what's happening."

"No," Lucky said, his voice shaking.

"Lucky—"

"I said no! I do not believe you make the rules, Flint! I believe that I am still the leader of this group, am I not?" When Flint said nothing else, Lucky, in an infinitely calmer voice, his normal leader voice, added, "I thought so. Please remain silent on this matter. I will handle this. Thank you for your time." Without another word, he swept up the tunnel. Twist recoiled down into the ground as he walked in front of her, and in the wake of his passage, she could detect the bitter tang of his fear.

Flint followed him out, standing silently, watching him go. There was mud on his paws, freshly churned. He must have been out earlier. He looked tired, his eyes creased and half-lidded. He yawned widely, stretching his back out, cracking open one eye. And that's when he saw her.

"Twist!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing under there? Did you—did you hear anything?" He sounded almost embarrassed, his pelt bristling with discomfort.

"No," she said at once because lying was ingrained in her, and then more slowly, amended, "Yes."

Flint's eyes sparked with anger. "Eavesdropper!" he accused.

Twist pulled herself out from under the nest, her pelt thick with dust, and said, "I'm sorry. I was coming to talk to you, and…" She trailed off awkwardly.

Flint, lips slightly curled, narrowed his eyes at her. "I can't believe you," he hissed. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into! You had no right to—"

"Hey, I was captured by the Rogue, too, remember?"

He stumbled towards her, covering her mouth with his tail. "Not here," he whispered, eyes darting around. "Come inside. Come on."

She followed him down the tunnel, recoiling away from his touch. Just because they were sort-of friends now didn't give him the right to be so close to her. And in spite of her newfound trust for other cats, Twist still did not like being touched.

The healing den looked identical to the other times she had been here. A roughly circular stone room with a curved ceiling with a hole in the center, it had five branching tunnels, leading to tiny dens of their own, used to house sick cats and new mothers. At the present, there was no one there, not any that Twist could smell, anyway. Audrey's scent was almost completely gone, even though she'd been living here for six moon cycles.

Flint brought her to the farthest den back, the one he kept for himself. There was a mat of bedding in the corner, fixed particularly with moss and bracken, and a small shell full of water. Another of Lucky's weird ideas, Twist thought.

"Why were you listening in?" Flint demanded at once. "And what did you hear?"

"Lucky thinks the Rogue is still alive?" Twist asked, getting straight to the point.

Flint shifted uncomfortably. "I don't see how that's any of your—"

"I'm a Slider. And the Rogue nearly killed me. I think that gives me the right to that kind of information."

Flint sighed. "Didn't we used to be friends, Twist?"

"No," she said bluntly.

He winced. "That hurts. I considered you my friend."

"I considered you a spineless coward," she retorted. "You allowed the Claws to use you. Out of your own free will. What kind of cat does that?"

"The kind that wants to live."

"The kind that doesn't care about living. If you did, you would have fought."

"This body wasn't made for fighting." Flint sighed heavily. "If you want someone to lecture, I'm sure my brother would like a word."

"Max gave everything he had for the Sliders!" Twist hissed. "He was the one who was brave, not you! He fought the Claws when he was a kit! Who are you to judge him like that?"

"Who are _you_ to judge _me_?" he shot back. "I did what I could to stay alive! I had to save myself! I couldn't think of anyone else, just me! If you were half the cat you used to be, you would be thinking the same!"

That stung. Flattening her ears behind her and baring her teeth, she snarled, "Don't be bringing up the past! This has nothing to do with that! This is about Lucky and the Rogue!"

Flint, now looking remarkably angry, tossed his head away. "We looked at that fur again," he said. "And another patch, a brown bit of fur we found a little ways away from where Bronze was. Lucky thinks that it's the Rogue's fur."

"The Rogue didn't have that much white," Twist pointed out. "Barely any at all."

"Enough to leave a patch. Especially if a cat was attacking him. If Bronze was."

"Why would he attack his own son?" Then she shook her head. "He's not alive. He can't be. I saw him drown."

"Did you?" Flint's eyes flicked to her again, searching her face. "You saw him fall into the water. You didn't see him die. There wasn't a body."

"That's not what you were saying to Lucky," she said suspiciously.

Flint looked away. "I don't want to give Lucky any more things to worry about than he already has. It would be cruel. He'll give himself gray whiskers if he keeps this up."

"It's not your job to tell Lucky what to do."

"And it's not yours to tell me what to do." He turned back to her, a cold distance coming into his eyes. She shivered before she could help it; he looked like a Claw.

"Do you think it's the Rogue?" she asked him. "That killed Bronze?"

Flint twisted his jaw. "It's not for me to say."

"You obviously think it was someone else."

He narrowed his eyes. "Obviously."

"Then who?"

And now a bit of Flint's old uneasiness came into his eyes. Shifting his weight from paw to paw, he said, "I don't know…" But he didn't sound sure.

"White fur," Twist said slowly. Who among them knew Bronze and hated him enough to kill him? Who would do something like that, leaving such dreadful wounds all over a cat's body, clearly curved slashes of a cat driven by passionate hate.

Flint was looking at her steadily, as if he was waiting for her to say it.

Then it popped into her head: the only cat she could think of who hated Bronze so much, even after such a long time, who had kept that hate bottled deep inside, letting it swirl and strengthen…

"Lightfoot," she said.

Flint's eyes glittered. "I thought the same."

"But…why would she?" Twist realized a heartbeat later what a stupid question that was. "Bronze was in charge of the pits." He was the one under whose watch Beck, Lightfoot's only and dearest friend, had died. Lightfoot had been devastated, broken. And the only way she knew how to respond was with hatred.

Strong enough hate to fuel a murder?

Knowing her, and Twist did, she wouldn't doubt it.

Flint dismissed her then with, "I have things to do. You need to keep this quiet. I can't have rumors spreading. Tell no one. Not even Declan. Lucky's going to keep an eye on Lightfoot, to see if she does anything else."

Twist nodded, not promising really, because she knew without a doubt she would tell Declan, and exited.

Lightfoot, a murderer. Twist had known that for a fact long before today; Lightfoot had thrown down a Claw guard and killed him with the ease one would use to catch a mouse. And she had killed Braiser, Twist's father.

Twist shuddered away from that image. She still hated herself for sending Declan after to check for Braiser's body. She hated that weakness that had stolen over her. And mostly, she hated herself for being such a coward about it.

_I am such a hypocrite, _she thought, her paws bringing her along the path. She was halfway back to her den before she realized she hadn't even asked about Audrey.

_Well, I'm not about to go back and ask now. _Flint had been very firm on that fact. And she wouldn't want to head back that way again anyway, on the off-chance she would run into Lucky and have to explain herself to him. Or not. Though she was certain her face would give her away.

She had used to be such a good liar. Now with Declan's interference, she had become far more honest. In part, she liked that. In other times, it was frustratingly difficult to get information out of others who didn't want to give it up.

Her paws found their way to the den that Willow shared with River. They had been friends before River had been taken and now they were inseparable. Willow's former mate, Snow, had been killed in battle, and now it looked like she was well on her way to establishing a relationship with River. And River needed it, Twist thought as she lingered at the entrance to their box-nest. He was so far gone from the cat he used to be; she worried for him.

"Willow?" she called softly, unsure if she was still sleeping.

But Willow made her appearance. She had a warm sleepy smell about her—she must have just woken up. "Good morning."

"Have you seen Audrey?"

"Audrey?" She yawned widely, her eyes closing tightly. She flopped to the side, scratching an ear with her hind paw. "I haven't seen her since…well, the day before yesterday, I guess. Why? She isn't missing, is she?"

Twist wished that she could say no. "I don't know," she admitted.

Willow's eyes widened. "We have to find her, then! Let me get River and Jenny and we'll start sweeping the gang. We should tell Lucky, too."

"There's no need to get all riled up about it, I'm sure." _I hope. _"Let's just check to see if she's around first, okay?"

Willow agreed, disappearing back into her den, with the promise not to speak a word but to her closest friends.

But of course, once a rumor was out, it swept through the Sliders like a wildfire. By the time it was sunhigh, the entire group was out looking for her. Lucky pounced atop his usual position—the machine-paw tower—and declared Audrey officially missing.

"I would like groups sent out to find her, please. Viktor, you, River, and Kent will take groups of four cats each. I want you to go to every corner, look under every rock, in every patch of undergrowth. We must find her." He straightened, his eyes zoning in on where Twist and Declan stood. "I will lead another group. Meet back here when the sun has moved to halfway-sunset and we will speak again." He leapt off the tower, walking straight to them, and said to Twist, "You are with me?"

"Yes," Declan said. He pressed into Twist's side, trying to calm her down. Twist hadn't realized that she wasn't breathing until he said softly, "We'll find her," his words meant only for her.

Twist swallowed, squinting through the sudden worry that clutched at her chest. It wasn't like her to worry like this—but it also wasn't like her to not notice Audrey's absence.

But then again, Audrey had been fallen deeper and deeper into a dark place that Twist could barely stand to think about. Some twisted shadowy depression that was pulling the shine from Audrey's eyes and pelt, and making her ribs more apparent. She had walked with leaden paws and a blank expression, slowly curling in on herself until she was nothing but a pair of lungs and slow-beating heart.

Lucky had grabbed the other two cats in his group—a sturdy black tom with a tufty pelt named Blade and, to Twist's horror, Lightfoot.

The she-cat looked ready for action as usual, the black stripe between her eyes making her eyes look even more deadly than normal for some reason. She swung her head to face Twist, sharp curiosity in those vivid green eyes, but Twist looked away.

_Of course Lucky wouldn't think anything of bringing her along, _Twist thought. _He doesn't suspect anything from her._

Now with Flint's words in the back of her head, Twist couldn't help but watch Lightfoot. Even closer than usual, she thought, as they made their way out into the outside, scaling the side of the hill towards the forest at the top. They were heading to where Bronze had been killed, she knew, but why she wasn't sure. Perhaps Lucky thought Bronze's death had something to do with it. Or maybe still, she thought, Lucky wanted to use this opportunity to check the area out again, looking for any sign of his brother.

_The Rogue can't be alive, _she thought firmly. _I won't believe it. Lightfoot must have been the one to do it. She's the one who killed Braiser and that guard. She's the one who could have done it. She must have gone out into the woods and—_

And what? Found Bronze there alone, unguarded, so close to Slider territory? He wouldn't have come that close to their land if he was intelligent—which he was. Twist had seen enough of him to know better than to underestimate the wily nature the Rogue taught his favorite son.

Lucky stopped at the crest of the hill. His pelt prickling, he half-turned to them, keeping his face hidden, and said, "We will split up here. Meet back at this spot when you are finished."

"Splitting up?" Blade echoed, his eyes widening in surprise. "But I thought—"

"Do you have a problem with it?" When Blade, stunned, didn't reply, Lucky went on with a tinge of condescension in his voice, "I thought not. I will go this way. Go your own." Without another word, he sprang ahead into the forest and vanished with a rattling of leafless branches.

They all watched him go, speechless.

Lightfoot was the next to go.

"H-hey!" Blade called. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to the magical pond to turn into a rabbit." She shot him a cold glare. "Where do you think I'm going, moron? We didn't come out here to chat, you know." She turned and trotted away, her tail lashing.

Blade still looked uncertain. "But…he said—"

"Come on, let's get going," Declan said. He turned to her. "We can go together, if you'd like, Twist."

As much as that offer was tempting, Twist knew this could be her only chance to look for Lightfoot herself—maybe the she-cat would show some sort of evidence that she was the one to kill Bronze. Not to mention that if Declan found out about her plan, he might persuade her not to go. "Well, Lucky did say to split up," she said slowly, immediately regretting the words at Declan's hurt expression.

It only lasted a heartbeat but Twist knew him better than that—he was clearly faking the cheerfulness with which he said, "Okay. See you later then!" He moved to a different part of the forest, an off-angle from where Lucky had gone.

Twist watched him, heart aching from hurting his feelings.

"So…are you going, too?" Blade asked.

Rolling her eyes, Twist entered the forest. She immediately darted beneath a bush with thick, dead leaves, hoping that her dark pelt would hide her against dirt. Blade walked by, looking a little bemused still, and Twist waited until he was out of sight before getting to her paws and taking off after Lightfoot.

In a way, she thought, she was probably being a horrible friend. She was supposed to be looking for Audrey, her actual friend, not sneaking after Lightfoot on the whims of her own imagination. But Flint's words had sunk deeply into her mind and would not leave. She had to make sure that Lightfoot hadn't done what Flint had accused her of.

But…why?

But all means, it was stupid. She shouldn't be doing this at all. She should be out there looking for Audrey.

But Twist had to know. She had to know if Lightfoot had done it.

In a way, as she slowed to a crawl, following Lightfoot's scent, Twist wondered if it was because she owed Lightfoot so much for killing Braiser and she had to make sure Lightfoot hadn't given into revenge. Though conversely, if Lightfoot _had _killed Bronze, why hadn't she been outspoken about it? In her mind, the killing of another cat wasn't an offense: it was a task given to her by some kind of otherworldly power.

Twist was almost too lost in thought to detect a slight twinge of movement ahead of her. Crouching down low, she crept forward, keeping her weight low over her paws. There was a rise of earth ahead of her—the same place where Bronze had been killed, or at the very least discovered.

_I knew it, _Twist thought, and she moved forward again, eyes seeking out the stark pelt of Lightfoot.

No cat was in the clearing. It looked completely normal, even the scent of blood vanishing into the cold morning.

Twist stared, confused. Lightfoot's scent was everywhere here.

A weight hit her from behind, making her chin dig into the frozen ground, gouging a hole in the earth.

Claws curled into her back, just pricking the skin. "You might want to be less obvious with your stalking," Lightfoot whispered into Twist's ear, forcing her deeper into the ground. "I could smell you coming from halfway up the hill."

Twist said nothing. Horror was surging through her, icy and thick.

_What if she kills me for following her? _she thought quickly, almost dismissing it. Almost. Lightfoot had shown the ability to snap with less than a insult.

"Well?" Lightfoot's claws broke Twist's skin now; she flinched before she could help it. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm not. I came to—"

"Don't give me that load of dung! I saw you sniffing all the way up here, creeping through the bushes. If you weren't following me, what were you doing?"

Twist couldn't answer.

"Following Lucky?" Lightfoot guessed. "Coming to see if another dead cat is here?"

Both good reasons. Both good lies. "Seeing where Bronze died."

"Liar." Lightfoot stiffened her front legs, crushing Twist so powerfully into the ground that the breath was forced from Twist's lungs. "What are you doing here? Tell me, or you'll regret it." The growly threat in her voice was enough for Twist to know she wasn't messing around—Lightfoot was deadly serious.

Gritting her teeth, Twist said, "I was following you."

"Ha. I knew it. But why?"

"I think you're acting suspiciously."

"I'm not the one following another cat into the woods," Lightfoot said wryly. "I've already been followed by one cat—I don't need another."

Twist was shocked. "Who followed you besides me?"

She heard the curled lip in Lightfoot's voice as she replied, "Lucky. He set out early but I saw him. He walked right beneath this tree, _muttering._" She took on a deeper pitch, mimicking Lucky's slow, even tones: "'Just past here, I see. So that cat has been here. I knew it.'" In her normal voice, she said, "I already knew once Bronze was reported dead you cats would come looking for me."

"You hate him."

"Hat_ed_," she corrected. "You mustn't speak in the present about a cat who's already dead. And I am so glad that he is dead. So glad. Though so disappointed that I didn't get to hear him beg for mercy. I would have loved to watch him die."

Cheek pressed against the ground, Twist asked in a garbled, "You didn't kill him?"

"Didn't I just say that? What, are your ears too full of dirt to hear properly?" She shoved off from Twist's back, leaping lightly off the side of the path. She licked a paw delicately, beginning to clean her face. "If I had killed him, you think I would have kept it quiet? You think that I wouldn't have bragged about it? And besides," she added coldly, "I would not have killed him so quickly. Not after what he allowed to happen to Beck. No, it would have been nice and slow, controlled, easy. Elegantly. He was killed like prey; I would have killed him like the vermin he was."

Twist scrambled to her paws, feeling dirt clotting in her pelt. She had no doubts that Lightfoot was telling the truth now. She had practically lamented the fact that it hadn't been her claws to end Bronze's life. Cursing Lightfoot bitterly, though silently, she asked, "Then who did it?"

"How am I supposed to know that? And why would I care? If only to thank the cat that put that disgusting worm out of this world." She sighed, staring at one perfectly white paw. It was the most dejected that Twist had ever seen her look. "If only it had been me."

Now significantly disquieted by Lightfoot's nearly psychopathic words, Twist edged away. "S-sorry for…accusing you, then."

"Yes," Lightfoot said softly, still staring at her paw. Then she blinked, pulling herself out of her reverie, and fixed those bright eyes on Twist. "You shouldn't be so quick to accuse anyone, Twist. Especially not this soon after such evil has been disposed of. Don't you want the peace you've so dearly clung to? That you've wished for? I mean, you and Declan are together now. There's your happy ending. But what about the rest of us? What about me? And Audrey? Even Lucky. Nobody got what they wanted. No one but you." Her eyes narrowed. "Some would think that unfair."

"We have peace now," Twist argued. "Or, at least we did before this. We'll…we'll get past this, I know."

"You think that all of the evil is gone from this place?" Lightfoot demanded, suddenly hot with fury that made her eyes go flat somehow, like circles of acid. "You're wrong. It's darkly coiled so deeply within all our hearts that we can't even feel it. You can't even tell until you see the monster's face, and by then it's far too late." She laughed then, scornfully. "Even mine. Even yours. Even Declan." On his name, her voice turned into a teasing lilt, mocking her.

Twist's hackles raised. "What do you know about Declan? Or what he went through? Who are you to say anything about that?"

"Oh, I'm a nobody." Lightfoot got to her paws, stretching luxuriously one leg at a time. As she passed, she brushed the tip of her feathery tail down Twist's spine. "I'm nobody. And so are you. So who are_you, _Twist, to think that evil will be gone just because you wish it would be? You think that we can truly be rid of the Rogue and his cats? You're wrong. I see them every night in my dreams. My nightmares. Ones that wrench me from my sleep, screaming. I would imagine Declan would feel the same way. It's the mind-poison of the Claws: they have tainted me almost into madness." She chuckled humorlessly. "Or rather, tainted me even more. Come. We have to find Audrey." And she walked away, tail in the air, completely oblivious that she had left Twist very nearly shattered to pieces with only her words.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They searched for so long. Up and down the hill, down by the brook, through the forest. They asked a few of the pets that bordered the Sliders' territories. They even went to the border of the Claws' land, asking the guards they found there if they had seen a ginger she-cat.

No one had even glimpsed her. Not a single cat. It was like she had just dropped off the edge of the horizon.

Lucky called them together at the end of the day. The sunset blazing orange and purple behind him, he explained to the Sliders that one of their number had simply vanished. Gone. As if she'd never even existed. They hadn't been able to even find a scent-trail or fur.

The Sliders broke apart then, going back to their normal lives. As if they didn't care about Audrey at all or what she'd been going through.

Even though it kept Twist awake that night.

Declan wasn't sleeping either. He lay on his side, tail over his nose. One of his hind paws was stretched out towards her and she laid her leg over it, wanting just the simplicity of his touch to calm her. It didn't work; her heart was thudding sluggishly in her chest as she thought back over Lightfoot's words.

"_Nobody got what they wanted. No one but you."_

Twist jerked herself onto her shoulder, burrowing her nose into her nest-stuff. _Everyone did get what they wanted, _she thought, rather selfishly. _The Rogue died. Cats came back home, loved ones, friends. It was a victory…wasn't it?_

_"It's the mind-poison of the Claws."_

She glanced over at Declan. His eyes were open, glazed, staring up at the ceiling. Through the hole in their box-nest, Twist could see the half-obscured moon, floating so high up in the sky. His breathing was soft and even.

_What is he thinking? _It wasn't the first time Twist had had that thought. Every time she looked at him, at that serene expression he sometimes wore, she wondered what was going on in his mind. He kept so much from her, she knew—things too painful to speak about. She knew that his happy-go-lucky personality was sometimes a show he put on so cats wouldn't press him for details. But she also knew him well enough to read the tightness around his eyes, the lack of glint in his eyes. He was thinking so hard about something but he didn't speak.

But then again, she thought as she slowly let out a silent breath—one she hadn't noticed she'd been holding—she was not free with details either.

Could he really be possessed by the Claws still? By Braiser? In a way, she blamed and hated herself for what had happened—if she had killed Braiser properly the first time, Declan would never have gotten so irreparably damaged.

_There's no use worrying about what you can't change, _Twist told herself. _You can't change anything with Declan right now. You need to focus on staying out of trouble._

She was already going to hear it from Flint if Lightfoot said anything. Though the black-and-white she-cat was difficult to read, Twist didn't think she was a snitch. And even if she spoke to anyone about it, she was surely going to say the same thing she had told Twist: how badly she had wished to kill Bronze.

_I guess someone can feel that way, _Twist thought. The thought of killing someone had never occupied her mind for very long—she had considered it when her mother was being attacked by Braiser so long ago, and then again when Declan was in danger—but she couldn't even comprehend the thought of stalking another cat like prey, leaping onto their back, her teeth in their throat…

She closed her eyes against the image.

At that moment, Declan reached out for her with a paw, gently resting it against her forearm.

Such a simple action. Such a complex effect it was having on her. It was like he could read her mind, sensing the unease there.

_I should be comforting you, _she thought.

"I'm sorry," Declan said softly.

Twist looked at him; he wasn't gazing at her, his eyes still on the moon above. "For what?" she whispered. She curled up against herself, her tail curving up between the two of them, the tip nearly brushing her chin.

And now he looked over at her. "You're unhappy."

She sighed slightly. "It's not our fault."

"Audrey is our friend. We should have stopped her from leaving." He sounded anguished, the green of his eyes glittering with pain.

Twist wanted to close her eyes against the sight. "I didn't think she would just…run away. I thought she would stay here, for her friends. For us."

"I guess not." Declan closed his eyes. His paw was still touching her, and she could feel he was trembling slightly. "But I can't stop thinking about her. What if she's alone? What if something kills her?" He opened his eyes, fixing her in a suddenly bright gaze. "What if the same cat that killed Bronze kills her, too?"

Twist couldn't speak.

Declan went on, though she half-wished he wouldn't: "What if she dies? What if she dies and it's our fault? She should have stayed, we should have made her stay. Twist, we should have helped her. She needed us and...and… Twist, we have to find her, we have to—" His voice was shaking so badly that he couldn't continue.

Twist slid over to him, resting her head just beneath his chin, one paw curled against his chest and the other over his shoulders, holding him to her. She was trembling, so much that her teeth were nearly rattling, but she couldn't let Declan see her face. She couldn't let him see the loss and terror she knew were etched into her expression.

They had lost Audrey. All because they were too busy with each other, alone in their own little world.

"_I mean, you and Declan are together now. There's your happy ending. But what about the rest of us?"_

* * *

><p><strong>Super-lame ending. Sorry.<strong>

**If this chapter was a physical thing, I would shoot it dead. It did not please me, which rarely happens with me and writing.**

**On the plus side - the only plus side - it is now over. XD**

**Probably being a bit overdramatic.**

**So what else is new?**

**:P**

**Anyway. Enough of this. You can go back your lives now, unless you're about to review, in which case you should definitely do that instead. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	3. Tact and Truth

**Hey, guys. This is gonna be a quickie chapter this time - but more of that at the bottom AN.**

**theDiabolical - Haha! You should get your sleep and just read in the morning, silly! Sleeping is more important that this fic, by far. XD**

**Rapidfeather - Gosh, morbid, Rapidfeather. XD Let's keep it cheerful, shall we? Like...fuzzy golden bunnies and...butterflies. Yeah. XD**

**Queen of the Pens - Me too. I'm so glad that he turned out this way. I originally planned to have him and the Rogue die together. XD**

**XxJabberjayxX - Oooh, you're talking to the wrong girl, Jabber. I don't like Twilight. XD You can't have love without some kind of angst! And I do love how Lightfoot is so psychotic but still on the good guys' side. More of that in the future. ;) And goooosh, I have read that story - and I use "story" very, very loosely. I actually listened to a dramatic reading of it on YouTube. XD**

**LegendaryHero - I'm in my bi-yearly insomia phase, so this is when I'm online. This is actually a little bit earlier than usual for an update as far as timing goes. XD Constructive criticism is always a good thing - no lie there - but I do get my feelings hurt sometimes by reviewers. I may write dark, angsty stories but I'm still a person, too! XD I know that this story is trying to jerk forward waaaay too quickly and it's getting out of my control - I'm very, painfully aware of that fact - but more of that at the bottom AN. And thanks for the double-review - I really did appreciate that.**

**tufted titmouse - Oooh~! That's a good one! Okay, I'll reread that scene and get on that soon. XD I actually PDF my original stories that I write and put them on my Reader so I can read while I'm at school. XD**

**Da Mao-Blackjack - Ooh, new name-change! Ironic, too, 'cause I have a character coming in named Blackjack! XD Haha, I dunno about many more stories, though. Fanfiction is wearing me thin. XD**

**Koraki - Thanks! I'm glad you like da fluff. X3 I loved Snit, too, but he just _had _to go. Redemption equals death and all that. XD**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Kill Audrey? Would I do that? X3**

**Kitty - Hee! I think your heart failed a bit there, unless you meant threes, in which case... 333! XD**

**artemis7337 - Haha, perhaps I should have named it Sink instead. XD Ooh, too dark, you think? I didn't know it turned out so dark. '- '**

**Ravenshade - Lightfoot unsettles everybody, I think. I imagine that Lucky is always wondering how it is exactly that she stays loyal to him. XD I try to put humor in it but I think I'm pretty bad at it. I really must practice. XD I'm horrible at time, too, don't worry. I have to keep track in my notes for this fic so I don't do anything too dreadful. XD And they sell MLP stuff? :O I dunno how my roommates would feel about me having a Rainbow Dash plushie hanging around my room, though. Perhaps I can make one! I bet I could. I made a Toothless plushie, after all!**

**warrior cat lover - Hee! It's okay, I probably wouldn't sign in if I didn't have to. It takes so long sometimes. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Yup! I haven't found a place for Shot yet, but he'll come in too!**

**Tangleflame - Ain't she? I do like her. X3**

**SoccerGeek7699 - Twist always worries now. I imagine that she does hate it so - she and I are alike in the way that we don't generally get worked up or stressed out but when we do, it's on. XD Hee! Parlez-vous francais? Aimez-vous mon roman? Merci beaucoup~!**

**Okay.**

**Onto the story~!**

**"They have a plentiful lack of wit."**

**_**_Hamlet, _**_**Act 2, Scene 2****

* * *

><p>The freeze wore on. For days and days. The ground was locked in the fierce claws of the cold season. Prey scattered. Animals abandoned the forest. Cats slowly grew quieter as the hunger howled from their bellies.<p>

Twist sat shivering on the top of the fence, looking out into the twilit woods. They were completely bare and empty now, seeming more like a ghost land than a living, breathing environment. Flakes were floating down past her, sticking to her pelt without melting, but she didn't move away. Her breath fogged in front of her in clouds of white, her whiskers bending under the weight of tiny frozen droplets.

After a moment, she leapt to the ground, landing lightly on the ground. The snow, a fine powder, crunched beneath her paws, leaving dimples behind as she walked. Her pelt had grown thicker throughout the season but the chill still cut through it, right down to her skin. She shivered but kept moving, her eyes fixed ahead of her, even as the soft, haunting call of an owl rose sleepily from the trees above.

She saw it, watching her with bright yellow eyes. A curve of white feathers over its eyes gave it an inquisitive look, as if asking, _What are you doing all alone in the woods?_

Twist dropped her gaze from it, her pelt bristling. She hadn't seen owls in her kithood up in the mountains but she had seen hawks. Her mother had always warned her about such large birds, and how they could easily carry away kits to feast upon.

_Well, I'm no longer a kit, am I?_ she thought rather grumpily, moving on.

It felt like it had been so long since that day, since Audrey had disappeared. Days and days and days. Twist sighed heavily. This snow should have melted. This freeze should have been over already.

Audrey should still be here.

Twist had gone out every night like this since that day, hoping to find her. Hoping to see her ginger pelt amidst the trees. Even in her dreams, Twist had seen Audrey as if she were a shadow, half-hidden in a thick, cloaking mist. Her eyes had shone through the darkness, bright green, but she hadn't come closer.

Though that did not deter Twist from trying to find her.

She hadn't told Declan. It wouldn't be right to bring him into Twist's daily obsession.

In the back of her mind, she knew it was stupid. She shouldn't be doing this, keeping things from him. But she couldn't help it; she tried to tell herself that it was for his own good, and hers as well, but she couldn't quite believe it.

Not to mention his nightmares had worsened.

Twist would awake to his frantic whispering, under his breath so quickly that she could barely hear it save for a stream of hissing. His eyes would roll beneath the lids, searching out something. Sometimes he even stood.

Once he walked all the way out into the woods. Twist had followed him, frantically calling for him, but it was like he didn't even recognize her. His eyes had been dead, flat, and so, so empty. Just like when he had been smoke-treated.

She shivered again, this time not with the cold.

Declan was her everything. To see him in such pain…it was breaking her apart every time she thought about him. Sometimes, she couldn't even bear to look at him. It wasn't that she didn't love him—she was almost terrified of how much she did—but it just _hurt _to be around him. It hurt so badly. All the pain he was suffering…and he couldn't tell her about it.

It made her, in a selfish, kittish way, want to keep her own secrets.

Just like this one. This going out into the forest every night, right around this time, to search out a cat who didn't want to be found. Or what if she really was dead? Would Twist one day stumble upon her body, cold and stiff and frozen?

Something twitched in the bushes ahead of her.

She ducked into a tangle of dead thorn bushes, hoping and praying with all her heart that it wasn't Declan. It would be so very difficult to explain this situation to him. She told him that she went out to hunt at this time, a little bit of alone time, and he never doubted her. He never even questioned the idea that she would lie to him. And she wouldn't ever. Only just this once.

One lie couldn't hurt anyone that badly.

Twist, her pelt blending her rather beautifully into the dark, dead stems, could hear the cat thrashing around. By the sound of it, it was a pet—no Slider or Claw would walk so loudly—and it was a slow one at that. The cat moved leisurely through the forest path. With one last tug of branches, the cat was through, was clear, and Twist felt at once a profound confusion.

It was a she-cat, slender and willowy and breathtakingly beautiful—even more so than Lightfoot or Sorrow. She was a very pale ginger tabby, her fur long and silky. Her belly and face were pure white, marked with very fine tabby markings, and her tail was a feathery plume. She walked on delicate white paws unmarked by mud or slush: she hadn't been out in the woods for very long. Her eyes were soft and delicate, a bright gold, and she watched everything with an almost delicate interest.

Twist stared. She hadn't ever seen this she-cat before. She certainly wasn't a Claw—her pelt was unmarred by mud and her eyes were unmarked—but she didn't wear a collar like the other pets Twist had seen. She seemed very frail, sickly somehow, even though her eyes glimmered with intelligence.

_She must be lost, _was Twist's first thought. This she-cat looked far too weak to be a wild cat. Deciding to take the Slider option, Twist slid out of the undergrowth and made herself known.

A blaze of something sparked up in the she-cat's eyes before she could hide it, something more than shock. "Hello," she greeted, and her voice was as soft as a dove's call. "I didn't know anyone was around here."

"I'm a Slider. We're just down the hillside. In the old no-pelt dump." She tipped her head to motion to it. "Are you lost?"

The she-cat looked embarrassed. "Yes. I was supposed to be meeting somebody here but he never showed up. I think he must have forgotten." She shivered. "And it's too cold to wait any longer. I was trying to find my way home. I got lost in these woods." She looked around, fear in her eyes.

Twist glanced back into the forest. She had checked these woods every day: if Audrey was around, she would have certainly found her by then. "Does your friend live around here? Does he have housefolk?"

The she-cat shook her head. "No. I don't know where he'd be." Then she hunched down slightly, her eyes uplifted to Twist, and even though Twist was smaller than her, it made her appear very vulnerable. "I know I barely know you, but can I… Never mind."

"No, tell me." Twist knew she shouldn't be talking to this she-cat—if she had gotten herself into something, she should get herself out—but Declan's voice was in the back of her head, whispering, _She might need help. You should make sure that she's okay before you leave her alone. She might be scared._

"Can I…come back to your den with you?" When Twist's mouth dropped open in surprise, the she-cat quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry. I know that's presumptuous. I didn't mean to— I mean, it's just cold and it's getting dark and I don't know these woods…" She trailed off, a bit of a miserable quiver in her voice.

Twist blinked. "Of…of course." Then she cleared her throat, trying to sound more official, more like Lucky. "The Sliders can house you for the night. You might have to come speak to my leader, though."

"That's fine." The she-cat looked positively ecstatic now. "Thank you so much! Oh, I just realized I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Dahlia."

_Dahlia. _What a weird name, Twist thought. "I'm Twist."

"Thank you so much for doing this for me, Twist," Dahlia said, her voice curving with genuine gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."

Now feeling a bit uncomfortable with this she-cat bounding alongside her, Twist said, "Don't mention it. You'll have to speak to Lucky, though."

"Your leader?"

"Yeah. He's the one that runs the Sliders."

"And what are the Sliders? That group that lives all together?" Twist didn't have a chance to respond before she continued with, "I've heard about you. When I was a kit, it was a huge deal. I remember hearing stories about them. And a few moons ago, I heard them again. You guys had a huge fight, didn't you?"

"Yes," Twist said slowly.

"Did anyone you know die?"

It was said so abruptly that Twist didn't know what to say. How could she respond to something like that?

Luckily, Dahlia seemed to understand she spoke too much. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to say that. What I meant was, did a lot of cats get killed because of it?"

Twist, now severely rubbed the wrong way and regretting her decision, said, "Yes."

"I'm sorry." Dahlia's voice was much softer now, barely audible over the ruffling wind. Her eyes looked very bright in her pale face, like sunflowers against snow. "That must be difficult. I lost my mother when I was very young. I understand loss."

Now it was Twist's turn to apologize. "I'm sorry. What happened to her?"

That easy flowing gold of her eyes hardened somehow, surprisingly. It lasted for barely a heartbeat before she turned her face away from Twist's view and said, "She was killed when she wandered too far into these woods."

"By what?"

"Cats. She managed to make it back home before she…" She didn't even try to finish that sentence. When she turned back to Twist, her eyes bright once more, she said, "I didn't mean to bring up such a morbid topic. I mean, I've only just met you. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

_Compared to most of my life, this is a pretty normal conversation. _Twist felt a bitter curl in her belly at the thought—it was depressing to think that a mother's death was commonplace in her new cynical thoughts.

Dahlia filled the air with a steady, cheerful chatter, all the way back to the Warren. By then, the light had fallen, turning the forest into a nest of shadows. The Warren was a welcome sight after all the snow—at least it was warm and homey inside. Unlike this slush and mush mixture of snow and mud.

Surprisingly, Iggy was at the entrance to the Warren, along with Kent and Kaltag.

"Who's there?" he yowled, his back arching. His teeth were exposed and glistening in the half-light.

Twist's hair rose along her back. Dashing up to him—he fell back to let her and Dahlia into the Warren with only the merest of looks at the new she-cat—she said, "It's Twist! Iggy, what's—" She was cut off as a weight hit her from the side and Declan's scent wreathed over her.

"Oh, thank the stars," he whispered against her neck, his words only for her. His voice very soft and weak, he said, "I thought that… I didn't see you after sunset and I thought you had been—" He let out a very quiet sigh, the sound very unstable.

Heart squeezing painfully in her chest, Twist forced herself to pull from his embrace. "Declan, what's happened? What's wrong?"

His eyes fixed on her seemingly unknowingly, searching her face. She had to repeat her question before he blinked and intelligence flooded back into his eyes. "There's been another body found."

Twist felt her blood run cold. "Who?"

"Jaybird."

And for one horrible, gut-twisting moment, she was happy that it wasn't someone she knew closely. Jaybird had been a smudgy gray she-cat who'd been captured by the Claws. She'd been forced into their ranks as one of the very few Claw guards. Smoke-treated like Declan, it had taken her so long to recover. She had been older, and she'd been with them for so long, that no one really expected her to make a full recovery.

And now she never would.

"Where is she? How did anyone find her? What…what happened?" Twist's brain felt utterly blank.

Declan nudged her to his side, his muzzle against her cheek. "Lucky's going to speak soon. He almost sent out a search party for you."

Twist accepted his affections almost absently; his desperation had been heart-wrenching but now she was totally fixated on the newest murder.

Jaybird hadn't been out in the woods alone. She never went anywhere alone—Lucky made sure of that. He didn't let any of the smoke-treated cats away from his sight for very long.

Her eyes tightened. That included Declan. Twist was sure that Lucky was so supportive of their relationship especially because Twist could look out for him. To make sure he didn't do something out of the ordinary or try to hurt anyone.

Lucky didn't trust him.

Twist didn't trust Lucky.

She wouldn't give up Declan's secrets to anyone—even the secrets he wouldn't share with her.

Declan pulled away from her, looking at Dahlia for the first time. He blinked several times quickly, looking as if he'd been struck over the head with something very heavy, and said, "H-hello. Who are you?"

Dahlia, who had been looking politely confused and mournful for a cat she'd never met, now turned her eyes to Declan, a curious, mischievous expression coming across her face. "I'm Dahlia," she purred, her tail curling over her back.

Twist felt a peculiar sense of dislike start bubbling up from the pit of her stomach.

"Your friend Twist invited me to spend the night here. I've managed to get myself lost somehow." She let out a short laugh that was breathier than the situation called for.

Declan, now looking slightly more aware, said, "Oh, I see. Well, welcome to the Sliders. We're happy to have you. You'll have to speak with Lucky." His head was tipped to the side, his ears forward.

Twist watched Dahlia's expression change once more, turning coyer, as she went with Kent to Lucky's den. She found herself thinking of how stupid everything about Dahlia was—her pale fur and her tiny ears and her idiotic mincing walk. Not to mention her name—what a stupid name that was, too.

Declan was still watching the direction Dahlia went, his expression seemingly frozen on his face.

Twist cleared her throat expectantly and he snapped out of his reverie.

"Did you say something?" he asked her, his voice far too polite. He was still thinking about something.

Narrowing her eyes, Twist said, "No, I didn't say anything." She swept past him to where Viktor was standing, his tail flicking nervously.

Declan caught up to her. "You're angry," he said. "Why are you angry?"

"I'm not angry," Twist said, making her voice very matter-of-fact.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You're _really _angry. What did I say?"

"You didn't say anything," Twist said blithely.

He let out a short hum of discomfort. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize." Now Twist was feeling slightly stupid. He was obviously wound tight from this newest development—her actions now were just idiotic. She shouldn't be feeling so distrustful of him. He loved her. She knew that.

So why was she suddenly feeling such a ferocious hatred for a she-cat she barely knew?

Not wanting to put anymore thought into that, she turned her attention to where Lucky had just appeared from the metal tunnel; Dahlia and Kent followed him. Kent looked rather dumbfounded as he allowed Dahlia to pass—she thanked him with a single word, her eyes shining—and he staggered after her, shaking his head as if his ears were full of water.

Twist turned her face away before her disgust could simmer anymore.

Lucky stayed on the ground this time, his tail flicking from side to side slowly. As the Sliders gathered around him, he began to speak: "My friends, today we are gathered here for a sad occasion. One of our own, Jaybird, was discovered dead on the border of our territory and that of the no-pelts."

The cats who didn't know about Jaybird's death now lost their looks of confusion. Blank shock read on every face.

"The no-pelts!" That was Marco; standing next to Max as usual, he looked completely astonished. "Are they the ones who caused her death?"

Lucky shook his head. "We do not believe so. I have spoken with my close council and it has been decided Jaybird was killed by another cat."

That sent up an uncomfortable murmur around the crowd.

"The same cat?" Yarrow asked. His patchy gray fur was fluffed up around his shoulders, his head lowered and his eyes glinting hard. Twist knew that he, out of all cats, had been close to Jaybird. The old she-cat hadn't had many friends in the Sliders—especially not since she had been smoke-treated—but Yarrow had taken it upon himself to reacquaint her with life in the Warren. She had been a close friend of his mother's or something, Twist thought. "The same one who killed Bronze?"

"We do not know that," Lucky said softly. "We should not leap to conclusions when there is no—"

"Is there any proof that it isn't the same one?" Yarrow demanded.

And now Flint stepped up, surprising Twist. "There isn't any to prove that it is," he said calmly, though his hackles were raised. "We should listen to Lucky." Out of all the crowd, he picked out Twist's eyes, and she couldn't help but wonder if he too believed the Rogue was behind this. He hadn't before—maybe Lucky had changed his mind.

Then his eyes drifted away from hers, guarded once more, and she wasn't so sure.

Lucky strode forward, his tail and chin lifted confidently, and said, "Please. We must remain calm. Jaybird was a heavy loss for us—I am aware of that—but rushing to accusations is only going to get us into a deeper mess. We must think about this calmly and rationally before—"

"That's easy for you to say," Yarrow growled, and now he moved forward, the crowd parting for him, until he was nose-to-nose with Lucky. His lip curling, he added, "You didn't even step up until Viktor made you. I haven't forgotten that. Jaybird wasn't anything to you, maybe, but she was to me. I didn't think you'd still be like this after the battle but apparently I was wrong. If you refuse to find answers, maybe I will."

Lucky, to his credit, didn't back down. His dark eyes very cool, he said calmly, "If you wish to find answers, perhaps you should go out and find them, Yarrow. But do not blame me when you manage to get yourself into a bad position."

Yarrow's eyes glinted. "Are you threatening me?"

"I am not. I am simply pointing out a fact."

"Is this really the time for this?" Kite strode between them, forcing them both a pace backwards. Despite her small size, her ferocity was filling the air like crackling lightning. Turning her back on Yarrow, she said to Lucky, in a voice so low that if Twist wasn't so close she wouldn't have heard it, "That's enough." Then she moved to Yarrow's side, murmuring, "Don't think you were the only one who cared for her. Jaybird was my friend, too."

Yarrow's teeth were still bared. "Then help me."

Kite's eyes flashed. "My loyalty is to Lucky. He knows better than to go charging off into the no-pelt's territory on so-called evidence."

Yarrow stared at her for a moment longer, eyes unreadable, before turning on the spot and disappearing down the metal tunnel. His white-tipped tail whipped out of view.

Kite watched him go, sighing heavily. Viktor walked to her side, whisking his tail over her back, but she did not look away.

Lucky was watching too, his expression unfathomable as usual. Without a word, he turned back to River, said, "Take care of this," and walked away to the far end of the Warren.

River gathered the Sliders together and ushered them back to their dens. As they slowly filtered out of the clearing, snow began to fall again, brushed sideways by the gentle breeze, the same that tugged Twist's cold-season-thick fur and bowed her whiskers. She felt Declan come up beside her, feeling his warmth before she even looked.

"What about Jaybird's burial?" she asked him.

"We already buried her."

Twist narrowed her eyes. "What do you think about this? I mean, it's not normal for cats to just get killed like this." She turned to look up at him. "What if it is the same cat?"

Declan looked away, his fur bristling. "I don't think it is."

"Why not?"

He muttered, "Just a feeling I have." He shook his fur then, one ear flicking. "We need to get out of this snow."

Twist agreed. She was shivering violently now, and not for the first time, she wished she had Declan's lovely thick fur. He was barely even trembling from the cold even though it must have been biting into his fur just as badly as it was hers.

On the way back—the wind quickly cutting out in the metal tunnel—they ran into Dahlia, who was speaking with Lucky.

"—from the edge of no-pelt territory?" Lucky was asking politely, his head to one side. He looked like he had tamed the anger Twist had seen building in his eyes when he was speaking to Yarrow. Either that, or he was hiding it very cleverly. It was so difficult to tell with him these days.

Dahlia was waving her tail very slowly, allowing the plumy feathering to sweep the ground. Her ears were forward, attentive, but the look in her gold eyes was very…unsettling somehow. Like she was trying very hard. "That's right," she mewed. "I only just wandered into the forest because I got lost." She sighed heavily then, overdramatically, Twist thought, and added, "I couldn't find my friend, so Twist brought me here. I'm sorry I came at such a terrible time. I'm sorry for your loss."

Lucky bent his head slightly. "Thank you. We will offer you shelter for as long as you desire to stay here. We will find you a den where you can rest, and tomorrow, you can pay us back for your stay."

"Pay you back?" Her eyes widened.

"Surely you did not expect to stay here without some sort of work involved. If you wish to go elsewhere, you may. I would hardly force you to stay here against your will."

Twist and Declan shared a wry look. Twist's mind echoed with a moon cycle's worth of work that preceded her acceptance into the Sliders.

Dahlia looked unhappy now. With a bit of a pout in her voice, she said, "I didn't know I'd have to work to stay here. Isn't there anyway you could make an exception?"

But Lucky, unlike Kent and Declan, seemed unfazed by Dahlia's charm. "No," he said cheerfully. "I am afraid that is quite impossible. Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to which I must attend." His eyes seized on Twist and Declan, and he added, "They will take you to a den. Perhaps near yours, Declan? You can be in charge of our newest member."

Twist's eyes widened in shock. "Declan?" she echoed.

"Why not? He has not had a new member to show around yet. It is a significant part of being a Slider, to show another around. I believe it would be…beneficial for Declan." His eyes gleamed. "Or do you disagree, Twist?"

"Why can't I show her around instead? Why Declan?" She felt Declan's eyes on her, questioning, but she didn't look at him. "We've been Sliders the same amount of time."

Lucky seemed confused. "Declan is older than you. It is only natural that he sees certain perks more than a younger cat."

Perks. She curled her lip.

"I don't mean to be such a burden," Dahlia said softly.

"You're not," Declan said. "It's fine. Twist and I can share the duties. Is that okay, Twist?"

Feeling an uncomfortable churn in her belly, hating herself for looking so stupid, she nodded. "That's fine."

"I do not care how it is done. Please just make sure that Dahlia feels at home here." He nodded to Dahlia once, who responded with a dip of her own, and he went back to his den.

Dahlia turned to them, bright-eyed again, and asked, "Where are we going now?"

They managed to get her settled into a den, a tiny but warm thing situated between the wall of the metal tunnel and the den full of Kite's now self-sufficient kits. While Declan explained to Dahlia the rules of living with the Sliders, Twist slipped away to the next den.

She called out a greeting, unsure if they were already sleeping, and was met by a solid wall of soft, fluffy fur. Buried beneath the wriggling young cats, Twist struggled to breathe.

"Twist!" Whisper, not very true to her name, yowled in her ear. "You came to visit us!"

"Uh, kind of." Twist pushed her off, reaching around to tug Violet off her back. The little white she-cat fell to the ground with a huff, remarkably blue eyes looking up at her.

"What are you doing around here?" Violet asked.

"We usually only see you when we have to," Adder pointed out. Unlike his siblings, he took after his father, Viktor—long-legged, yellow eyes, and gray tabby fur.

"That's just the best part!" Her favorite—a fact kept secret from the others—piled onto her back, tugging at her ears with almost-adult teeth. "Hunting and fighting and learning!"

Twist flopped to the ground, carrying the little endearing pest Streak with her, and rolled onto her back, effectively squashing him.

Bouncing back to his feet, unperturbed, his white fur ruffled up around his ears, his eyes shining, Streak purred, "I've missed you, Twist! You should come visit me more often!"

"And me!" Whisper pushed her way to the front, eyes wide and placating. "You've forgotten about us!"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Streak grumbled. "I guess we're not as important. I mean, you're only our guardian. I guess that doesn't mean as much as I thought it did."

Twist pushed his head down with a paw. "Don't be such a smart-mouth," she growled, an edge of a tease in her voice. "Respect your elders and all that."

Looking up at her over the wrinkled edge of his fur, Streak's eyes glittered. "Yeah, 'cause you're so old, Twist."

"Hmph!" She removed her paw as Streak rubbed his back against her, purring so strongly she could feel it vibrate through her bones. "Well, I'm still older than you, runt. Anyway, I'm here to tell you you've got a new neighbor. Dahlia." She couldn't keep a slight edge out of her voice.

Whisper and Adder couldn't help themselves; they immediately went and peeked around the corner of their den, coming back with very different expressions. Whisper looked upbeat as usual, but Adder had the same stunned look Kent had been wearing.

"She looks nice!" Whisper said cheerfully. "I hope we can be friends!"

Adder shook his head. "That," he said slowly, "is the most beautiful she-cat I have ever seen in my life."

"What?" Streak's eyes widened. "No way." He moved to go look but Twist stepped on his tail to hold him back.

"Don't go gawking at her. Would you like to be gawked at?"

"If I was beautiful, I think it would be owed to me to be gawked at," he said cheekily.

"Good thing that won't ever be a problem," Violet said in a deadpan, getting a sour look from her brother in return.

Twist laughed, enjoying the company of these kits. She'd seen them go from blind, unknowing little scraps of fur to…well, slightly more knowing little scraps of fur. In all honesty, they were on their way to being adults so quickly it always surprised her. Soon they would be off on their own, hunting for the Sliders, learning how to really protect the borders. They wouldn't be kits anymore.

But until that day came, Twist thought fondly, she would indulge their cute little antics. She did love to play with them. Kits were adorable and sweet. They didn't know real anger or hunger or loss. They were innocent.

They hadn't yet learned how cruel the world could be yet. Not just yet.

Saying her goodnights to them—more firmly to Streak, who insisted on following her to sneak a peek at Dahlia—she slid over to the other den just in time to hear Dahlia's soft laugh.

"Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here," she said to Declan, her long eyelashes evident in the half-light.

"Oh, it's not me," Declan said quickly. "It's Lucky's decision."

"Oh." Dahlia sounded a little upset at that. "Well, thank you regardless."

Declan nodded to her. He turned and saw Twist watching, his eyes brightening at once. He bounded over to her and gently touched noses.

"You know, Twist," Dahlia said suddenly. "You never really introduced me to this handsome tom."

_Oh, she is asking for it. _Twist, belly turning with hot hate again, said, "I thought that Lucky had already done that."

"We haven't been formally introduced," Dahlia said sweetly.

Twist, physically having to repress a sneer in her voice, turned towards Dahlia. "This is my…Declan." She winced herself at the awkwardness.

Why had she skipped that crucial word? It hadn't even crossed her mind until the words were already out, how she had missed that essential title: mate.

It felt so formal, so decisive. Mate. It made her think of an old cat, a pair that had been together for seasons and seasons. It felt…labeled.

Dahlia's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that—" She stopped herself then. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"There's nothing to apologize about." Declan's voice sounded stiff again, the way it did when his mind was on something else. "I hope you have a good night's sleep. We'll see you again tomorrow morning."

Dahlia agreed with a soft word and they were gone, sweeping up the trails to their den.

Twist fell behind, watching the muscles work beneath Declan's pelt. He was upset, she could tell by the position of his head and the leadenness of his pawsteps, but she didn't know exactly how upset he was until they reached their den and he pushed the flap at the entrance closed, turning to face her.

"What was that?" he asked evenly, his twitching tail giving away his unhappiness.

She didn't want to look at him, that flickering emotion behind his green eyes. "What was what?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Why did you say that to her?"

"Say what?"

"You didn't tell her—" He caught himself. "You didn't imply that we were…together."

"I thought that would be obvious by the way we were acting." Twist didn't know how troubled he was about this even as he demanded an explanation. And besides, it's not like he said the word either.

"That's not the point. Are you…" He took a deep breath, his head to the side. He seemed to think for a moment because when he turned to her, he looked uneven again. "Are you embarrassed of me?"

Twist was astounded. "_What?"_

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Without waiting for an answer, he swept on: "I mean, this isn't the first time this has happened. Remember back when we visited your mother? A few moon cycles after the battle?"

Twist remembered. It had been the first time she'd seen her mother after that day she'd chased after Declan. It had been a nice afternoon, lying in the sun, trading stories, playing with her half-siblings. She couldn't remember why it would strike Declan so negatively. "What about it?"

His eyes fixed on her unwaveringly. "You introduced me to Teddy's brother as 'my friend Declan.'"

She certainly didn't remember that. "I don't think—"

He cut her off. "You did. Is that what I am to you, Twist? Just your friend?"

"Of course not!" she spat. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Then I don't understand why you introduce me as that."

"Why does that bother you so much?" she demanded, angry now. It felt so wrong to be this way with Declan, arguing like this, but she couldn't help it. He had pinpointed the exact fault in her logic, and now he was pressing on the fracture. "Who cares what Teddy's brother thinks? It's not like we're going to see him ever again!"

"I just wish you knew how that comes off to other cats."

"And how does it, Declan?" she asked sardonically. "Since you obviously think I'm stupid, why don't you explain it to me?"

"I don't think you're stupid," he argued.

"So why don't you explain it to me?" she repeated.

He let out a sharp, short breath then, a sigh of exasperation, and he said angrily, "It makes cats think that…that you're still available!"

Her mouth dropped open. "_Available?"_

Now looked slightly uncomfortable, his pelt prickling up around his spine, he nodded, looking at the ground. "You don't understand the way that other toms look at you sometimes. I mean, even when you're with Flint or River, I—"

"Flint and River?" She laughed before she could help it. As if he really thought that.

Though apparently he did, because his face fell at her laugh, as if she had proved something to him. "I just…I don't know. I can't help but feel…" He stopped himself, his eyes tight and edgy.

Feeling a roll of something close to nausea, Twist demanded, "Then what about you and Dahlia? What about that?"

"Dahlia!" His eyes widened. "Twist, I just met her."

"You should have seen your face when you saw her. Like you'd been hit between the eyes." All her newfound hatred for the she-cat boiled up.

"Twist, you're being ridiculous."

"So are you," she spat. "As if I'd be with River or Flint. As if I'd be with anyone but _you._ You're the only one I ever want, that I'd ever want to be with, ever. I don't want any other tom. I don't even look at them. Why would I, when I have you?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them—almost. She didn't like to feel so vulnerable, so open, even in front of Declan.

Her words seemed to have almost a physical effect on Declan. His expression collapsed in on itself like a falling roof. He sighed slightly then, only noticeable by his sinking shoulders, and he said, "I wish you had just said that to begin with."

"You didn't ask," she pointed out, her heart kicking in her chest like a rabbit. "You shouldn't have to ask. You know that I love you."

Declan sighed again. He moved forward and pressed his muzzle against hers, his whiskers tickling her cheek. "I know. But sometimes…"

She stopped him. "You shouldn't. Don't think sometimes. Always."

He looked up at her through the tops of his eyes, his gaze so beautifully green. "Always," he agreed. "I don't know why you'd be worried about _me." _He closed his eyes, his words very soft. "I'm yours. Completely, unconditionally, irretrievably. Every single piece of me belongs only to you."

Twist closed her eyes, too, and it was just them and the soft sigh of the wind and the moonlight pooling on the ground at their paws.

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><p><strong>Okay, guys, so we have a problem.<strong>

**Not to be melodramatic or pessimistic or whatever, but Float is just not coming out right. It's not because of anything other than my own impatience with the story and my restlessness with writing in general these days. I can't seem to focus on anything, and if it's because of my now-problematic insomnia, I think I need a little bit of time before I continue.**

**I think I made a mistake by choosing the plot of Float the way I did, so quickly, and I'm sorry for beginning the story without letting Sidestep be itself for ****awhile.**

**So what I think I'm trying to say is...Float's being a pain in the butt because my writing is getting worse. I can feel my style changing to a less descriptive, more play-by-play sort of feel and I hate it. The plot is moving too fast and it feels like I'm rushing something horrible. I think I just need awhile to get my thoughts - not to mention sleep schedule - in order before Float can keep going again.**

**I'll try to work it out quickly so it doesn't become a problem, but I think moving away from Float for awhile will be better for everyone - including you guys - in the long run.**

**Sorry, but I just gotta fix stuff before I can write again. It's not fair to have to make you guys wait for updates and then present to you a crappy chapter, you know?**

**So, if you would, just be a little patient with me. I'm sorry that reading my stuff is getting so complicated.**

**I appreciate you guys so much. I've never had so many reviewers before, but I just need a break. Just for awhile.**

**See you guys soon.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	4. Breathing and Drowning

**Heeeeey! I'm baaaaaaack~!**

**I've finished with moping about my writing and am ready to complete this mother! XD College has started back up - rather disastrously so far but that's a story for another AN - and my classes are going well. I'm finding inspiration in everything lately - especially music - and I've got my plot more neatly organized. No more rushing. :D**

**artemis7337 - I've loved the name Dahlia since I heard it on America's Next Top Model. It was either gonna be that or Iris. XD Ooh, Sea World! I bet that was fun! I haven't been in almost a year. Well, more than that. Not since that last Shamu attack. D:**

**theDiabolical - Haha! Like my mom says, "If you go to sleep at four in the morning everyday, you're gonna turn into a weirdo." Or maybe she only means me. XD I'm so loved.**

**Queen of the Pens - Hee~ Well, you guys will. I already know who she is. ;)**

**Blazingstar of ThunderClan - Oh, I knew it was you. XD I'm glad that you're feeling better now. That's really a crappy thing to have to go through; I'm sorry. The best thing to do in those kinds of situations are to be honest to yourself and others and that's exactly what you did. I think that's really admirable. ^.^ And Twist and Declan have to have some kind of problems! If they were lovey-dovey all the time that would be boring!**

**XxJabberjayxX - Well, I read Twilight when it first came out - 2005, I think - and that was before the hype, which is really what I dislike the most. I just think that stories should be character-driven rather than romance-driven. Like, if you took the romance out of Twilight, there wouldn't really be a lot of plot left, you know? That being said I have to admit that I did like the first one and I go see the movies within a week of their release - if only for bile fascination. Also, they have really good music. XD I ADORE Harry Potter. I grew up with it. Those books are blessed gifts from above. JK Rowling is totally the most legit person ever. XD I don't generally read femslash but I must admit I have an inner yaoi fangirl. X3**

**Rapidfeather - In Florida we have Cuban tree frogs that are as big as your fist. One time, my dad went out the front door and one plopped down right on top of his bald head. It was HILARIOUS...for me. Not so much for him. XD**

**tufted titmouse - Reading does make better writing! That's what they tell me in school aaaaaaall the time. And you take style hints from books you read, too, so this one will be very...Nightshade-y. Which is actually a pretty good book so far. XD**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - My inner editor has been jabbering to me and wouldn't leave me alone. I had to give it a break so it would shut up. XD**

**LegendaryHero - Oh, no, it's not you. I really appreciate your concrit - truly, I do. I've been depressed lately and stressing over stuff and it was just making everything...blah. You know? I just needed some time away to focus on getting school started, hanging with friends, that kind of thing. I've known a few girls like Dahlia and I hate all of them - so I can use that hate very accurately now. XD Sidestep did have some pretty long gaps, didn't it? D: But this one will be much smoother. Promise. :D**

**Tangleflame - Hee~ Thank you. You're so nice to me~ -hugs-**

**Ravenshade - Yeah, I just needed it to breathe for a little bit. It'll be much easier now, I hope. Please feel free to point out if it's not! :D**

**Chill of Fading Evening - Hoo~ Pretty penname~ -jealous eyes- Hee~ I love Declan, too. I must admit - I'm writing a original story with a character identical in personality to Declan. I wanted to make sure people would love him before I got serious about publishing anything. XD And Outrider? Yup! I'm almost done with one of those chapters. I don't like writing that one as much because not as many people read it. That one's more for fun. Not to mention I just like to write about rock stars. XD**

**ponyiowa - Hee~ Thank you! And wait no longer, for here it is!**

**Sigh~ I've heard such beautiful music lately, guys. So here's an absolutely gorgeous one that I recommend to every single one of you: "Falling Slowly," by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. **

**__"Take her away; for she hath lived too long, **

**To fill the world with vicious qualities." **

****_Henry VI, _Act 5, Scene 4 ****

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><p>Moon cycles passed. Night after night of a sleepless unease that filled the forest with a crackle of tension. No one went into the woods alone anymore—not since Jaybird's death. They were off-limits now, available only to those who went in groups or had a Slider warrior with them. They had to be protected at all costs. No one could be lost now. It would be unbearable.<p>

Declan blinked awake in a cold den, a light coating of snow on his thick fur.

He shivered it off, rubbing his nose with his paw. It was cold. So cold. This season should have been over already. The warmth of the green-season should have wiped this freeze from the ground but still the snow and ice persisted, well into the woods, settling over Slider territory like a thick pelt.

Twist's spot was empty next to him, cold and bare. He sighed lightly. She must be angry with him. Her temper was too quick to flare now. He couldn't do anything to keep her peaceful now. She was restless and flighty, prone to withdrawing so deeply into herself that Declan sometimes felt she was an entirely different cat.

Despite her confirmation of her affections, he knew that Twist could hold fury simmering just out of view for awhile. It was one of the things he knew about her—and loved her in spite of it.

Not that she made it easy sometimes, he thought as he went about his daily business—today it was hunting with River and Gravel. As he slid through the forest like a shadow, his dark pelt blending in with the shade of the naked trees, he thought about all the times he'd felt safe with Twist. As far as he was concerned, she was his home. He didn't need to be anywhere else where she wasn't.

But sometimes, he wondered if she felt the same. What was the difference between loving someone and wanting to be with them all the time? She told him that she loved him—and he believed her—but did she really mean it? Did she love him in the same way he loved her? This all-consuming passion that burned the fear from his limbs, his brain, his heart? The one that made everything seem almost impossibly clear, each moment in her presence shining like a precious treasure.

But the doubt left a bitter taste in his mouth and he hated himself for it. He shouldn't be doing this—not to himself or to Twist. She was loyal to him. She loved him. He knew it.

But…

_No. That's enough. _He focused himself on hunting, on that easy slide into a crouch, the soft strain of muscles and steady bones and trembling whiskers. His paws ghosted across the ground, soundless like slowly falling snow, pressing into the ground, coasting him forward.

The smell hit him first, a dark musky scent. Mouse.

Declan didn't used to be a good hunter. In his pet days, living together with Leo, he had sometimes chased after dragonflies or lizards but he had never caught anything. Only once he'd gone out by himself—after Leo's death—had he ever taught himself.

Leo. That fat tom still lurked in the back of Declan's mind, listening, waiting. Judging. He could always feel him, like a shadow pressing in on him, hanging over his head, waiting to strike. It wouldn't be long before Declan had to face him, to destroy what was left of Leo in his brain, or break himself trying.

The mouse was on its hind paws, nibbling a seed. It was turned away from him. It didn't even know he was there until it was in his paws and his teeth were in its neck and by then it was far too late.

The body was surprisingly small.

Declan could only look at it for a moment. A neat, small mark on the back of its neck and a bit of blood. That was it. Other than that, it could be asleep. It was curled on its side, its little tail tucked up under its neck.

Just like Twist slept.

The image of her dead jolted in front of his open eyes like a flash of lightning.

Declan recoiled at once, away from the body—now a mouse again—feeling sick. He was going to be sick. He stumbled blindly, a solid wall of white noise filling his ears. He didn't even notice the bushes close in around him until their branches stabbed at his flanks, ripping his fur, making him bleed.

He tripped over something and he fell to his side, hitting the cold ground. It felt like metal beneath his shivering pelt. His teeth rattled together, clicking audibly.

He hadn't had such a strong vision before. It was as if it really was Twist there, coiled motionless in the wet dirt. It burns behind his closed eyes as if rimmed with fire.

_You are mine, _the voice whispered in the back of his mind, snakelike.

_No, _he told it, keeping it back, keeping it at bay.

It was getting harder to hide himself from Twist. She suspected him, worried for him, but she wouldn't say anything. Not to his face. She wouldn't find anyone else to confide in, either. She would keep her thoughts to herself, swirling like smoke in her head.

_Enough, _he told himself. No more smoke, no more fire. Nothing. Even as the smell burned in his mouth, melting onto his tongue. The fire would never quite be quenched.

Ever since his smoke-treatment, the visions had been getting stronger, intensifying despite his desire to quit them entirely. It was a constant horror, stalking his pawsteps, creeping into his dreams and twisting his mind to their bidding. He had awoken yesterday night in the trees again.

So even now when he was seeking shelter from the Warren, from their stares, which to his mind seemed suspicious, he wasn't safe. He'd never be safe again. Not until he had forced back this sickness that Braiser had infected him with.

The image of the tom's mangled body flashed in front of his eyes, just as vividly as Twist's had. They had the same eyes, the exact same shade of burning yellow. The yellow that cut through the smoke of his dreams, whispering voices curling deep into his ear fur. The yellow that haunted him. He saw it everywhere and hated himself for it. He hated the chill of fear that coursed down his spine whenever Twist looked at him in anger. It was as if he was looking into Braiser's eyes again.

Declan scooped up the mouse, making sure not to look too hard at it, and headed back to where Gravel and River had set up their collection for prey. Already, the shallow grass-lined pit contained two blackbirds and a finch, and as Declan rolled the mouse into the pile, River came up heaving a fat rabbit. Its fur was thick and white, matting up where River's teeth gripped its scruff.

River dropped it with a huff, landing on his haunches. "How's that for a kill?" he said proudly, pushing the rabbit with one paw. It rolled limply, sickeningly. Declan looked away.

Gravel joined them shortly, empty-pawed, and they headed back to the Warren. Declan took the rabbit—he could barely stand to look at that mouse.

Flint was waiting at the mouth of the Warren, surprising Declan, the silvery, slinky she-cat Willow next to him. "Hello," he greeted.

His mouth full of fur, Declan could only nod in greeting. He set the rabbit down and asked, "What are you doing so far from the healing den?"

Flint looked away. "We're going to go collect some leaves I think will help with the cough that's going around." His eyes fixed on Declan. "You want to come with us?"

"Uh, not today. I just went out hunting."

One of Flint's ears twisted behind him. "It's not really a request," he muttered.

Declan was surprised. "Lucky gave the order for me to go along?" he asked.

"Let's not concern ourselves with that kind of thing," Flint said dismissively, standing. "River and Gravel can get that," he added, nodding to the rabbit. "We need to get going now before it starts to snow. Come on. To the brook."

The brook? Did any leaves even grow down there? "Can I just go see Twist?" Declan asked. "I haven't seen her since—"

"No, we have to go now. Come on," he said again, trotting out of the Warren.

River said, "I'll tell Twist where you went."

Declan felt a sick roll in his belly. He didn't want River to tell Twist anything. "Alright," he said, forcing cheer into his voice. "Tell her I'll be back later today, okay?"

River agreed that he would and Declan turned to follow Flint and Willow.

Flint led them down the slope towards the brook, his shoulders tense and bristling. Willow looked similarly uncomfortable, her plumy tail swishing from side to side. She jumped at every noise, her fur fluffing out to twice its size when a lark called suddenly.

"Are you okay?" Declan leaned closer to her, not liking the fear that widened her eyes.

Willow looked more startled when he addressed her. "F-f-fine," she said. "Really. I'm fine."

"Calm down, Willow." Flint didn't turn around as he addressed his friend. "There isn't anything to be worried about."

Willow's ear set back. "What about the killer?"

"There isn't a killer."

"Then who killed Bronze and Jaybird?" she challenged.

Flint stopped. Sighing heavily, his shoulders dropping, he turned around. His expression curiously blank, he said, "You shouldn't be doing that. Don't say things you don't understand."

"What's not to understand? Someone out here is trying to pick off cats. And it's one of us!"

"It isn't one of us," Flint corrected her crisply. "A Slider wouldn't kill another Slider."

"Not even that she-cat?" Willow said, her voice suddenly hushed. "Lightfoot? She's killed rogues before."

Flint's voice was a sharp snap when he demanded, "You think that Lightfoot would kill one of our own? Well, she wouldn't. She might be bloodthirsty but she's loyal to Lucky. She wouldn't ever do anything to challenge that."

"Flint's right, Willow," Declan said gently. "Lightfoot's on our side. She wouldn't cross Lucky. She knows better. And besides, Jaybird was an old cat. Why would Lightfoot go after her?"

Now looking even more uncomfortable, Willow murmured, "Someone did."

Declan felt a sinking pull in his belly. Someone definitely had gone after the old she-cat, but who? And why? What kind of threat did Jaybird show? To the best of his memory, Declan couldn't remember a single moment after returning from the Claws that Jaybird had been hostile. She'd been gentle-tongued, a motherly old cat. So different from the ruthless Claw guard she had been forced into being.

If Jaybird could be like that, couldn't he? The thought struck Declan like a blow to his stomach. He couldn't remember most of his smoke-treated time during the Claws—nothing but a wide, blank confusion, clearing only when he had seen Twist. She had been able to snap him out of it, out of the brainwashing he'd suffered from her father. That time when he hadn't been himself, but Leo—a darker, more vicious and hateful creature than Declan had ever felt. He never wanted to be like that again. He never wanted Twist to look at him with fear again.

The brook's bitter water-scent reached Declan before he even heard the tumbling water. Today, it was thick and storm-gray, flecked with chunks of ice that grated and crashed together, making a rather hypnotic sound. Declan bounded up to the side and stared down into the water, watching the water swirl into whirlpools, topped with a crest of white foam.

Flint and Willow went right to work sorting through the undergrowth while Declan watched out for them from atop a rock. He assumed that this was the reason Lucky had sent him along—sentry and protector for these cats more dedicated to healing than to fighting. Though, he thought rather wryly, he had seen Willow dishing out beatings to several Claws during that midnight battle.

Flint came over to him with a mouthful of bluish leaves. Setting them down on the rock, he said, "These are what we're looking for. Amber, my mentor—in the Claws," he said quickly, looking like the embarrassed awkward cat he used to be for a heartbeat, "taught me that they have healing properties. They're full of a juice that helps sore throats."

"Who's sick in the Sliders?" Declan settled himself onto his belly, his thick tail draping over the other end of the rock.

Flint pulled a sour expression. "A few cats. Ren. Iggy. Felicia and Emmy. Streak."

Streak. Twist's favorite young cat. No wonder she had been so tense lately. "Are they healing well?"

"Not as well as I had hoped. These will help." Flint paused then, his mouth open as if to say more, then closed it. "These will definitely help," he said finally, turning and heading back into the forest.

Declan watched him go, wondering what thought was spinning inside his mind. In the past few moons, peaceful ones, no cat had been injured or threatened by another. The Claws kept to themselves, sequestered deep within the darkness of the silent forest beyond the brook.

Sometimes Declan wondered what they were doing. The Claws had only known war and hatred and bloodshed. Peace must be unsettling for them.

Unless they also had losses from the unknown murderer.

The thought had struck him time and time again. Mostly whenever he awoke in the middle of the forest, his pelt hanging heavy with snow from his sleepwalking. The taste of smoke on his tongue and fire in his mind, Declan would stare out across the forest and wonder where they were, what they were doing…

And why he was so desperate to join them.

That was what he was keeping away from Twist so frantically. It wasn't just the nightmares making him walk. It was the drive to once again be with the Claws.

It had to be the smoke treatment. It certainly wasn't the part of himself that remained entirely his. It must be Leo still living somewhere in the back of his mind, whispering those things to him, forcing his paws into the darkness, that warm enveloping world where passion and bloodthirst ruled above anything else.

Those dreams that filled his entire body with boundless strength and energy. Those dreams where invisible cats chased him, choking his breath with fear, were all in the past, the early stages of this new and much more terrorizing nightmares. They made him feel powerful and strong now, no longer frightened and fleeing.

And they terrified him.

What if those nightmares sent him straight back to the Claws one night? What if Twist found out about him and his dreams?

Or worse: What if one day, those dreams made him turn his claws against her?

"Declan."

He blinked, seeing Flint standing in front of him. "Wh-what?"

Flint's eyes flickered then. "I said we're done now. We can go back home."

Declan, embarrassed, leapt off the rock. He didn't look at Flint; what if he had seen something in Declan's face? What had given him that blank expression?

"Do you need help with these or—" He was cut off by Willow's startled shriek.

"Someone's in the brook! There's a cat in there!"

Declan didn't feel himself move until he was already at the brook's edge, looking down into the water. A spark of soaked fur caught his attention as the cat drifted downstream towards them. Its head was sinking below the surface, water flooding into its open mouth. It didn't even yowl for help.

Flint was standing stock-still. "That cat will drown," he said blankly.

Declan looked from him to Willow, whose eyes were fixed unmovingly on the cat, then turned to the brook again. The cat was torn back and forth by the water, spinning hazardously close to the sharp edges of jutting rocks.

Without another thought, he bounded to the edge of the rocky shoreline and threw himself forward.

The water was so cold it paralyzed his entire body. His bones felt like they'd turned to ice even as his lungs screamed from the freezing temperature.

He broke surface, gasping, his soaked fur weighing him down. He forced his paws—paws he couldn't even feel—to move, to churn the dark, rough waters, pushing him over to the other cat. He heard Flint and Willow yowling behind him but ignored them, his eyes seeking out the cat.

Then he saw it. It had fetched up against a pile of branches and was clinging with unsheathed claws. The water pulled at it, ripping its fur. Its tail floated behind it like a pale snake.

Declan paddled over to it just as it let go. "No!" he yowled before he could stop himself. The water poured into his open mouth and he spat it out, the bitter tang of the water lingering on his tongue. He threw himself after the cat, now sunk below the surface.

The water here was smoother—probably from the cluster of sharp rocks surrounding them in a half-circle—and easier to traverse. Declan circled, trying to find the cat who had seemingly disappeared.

Declan's hind paw brushed something too soft to be river weeds.

Taking in a deep breath, he plunged his head below the surface. Opening his mouth, he reached blindly for the cat. He managed to get a mouthful of fur and pulled back.

The air above the water felt so cold to his numb nose.

Hoisting the cat's head above the water, Declan swam back across the brook onto where the shore was more level. His paws brushed pebbly sand and he collapsed onto his shoulder. Forcing himself back up to his paws, he pulled again, heaving the cat's head onto dry land.

Flint and Willow, racing along the ridge of land, appeared in front of his blurry eyes and took the cat from him.

"That was reckless and stupid!" Flint hissed as he yanked Declan up further to where the ground was bare of pebbles. "Stupid! You moron! You could have died! Willow, come over here and take care of him. Make sure there isn't any water in his lungs. I'll get the she-cat."

She-cat. Declan was numbly surprised.

Willow's touch was much softer and infinitely warmer than Flint's as she gently licked his face and ears. "Can you breathe?" she asked him softly, her breath hitting his face. He still couldn't see her clearly.

His throat burned from the water and strain of swimming as he tried to speak. "Yes," he croaked.

"Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" Without waiting for an answer, she nosed along his flanks, poking and prodding.

He winced as she pushed over his ribs, hissing slightly.

She let out a soft sound. "You might have broken something."

"I didn't hit anything. Not that I can remember." He swallowed painfully, as if he'd eaten a mouthful of rocks.

Willow frowned. "It might be—"

"Willow." Flint's voice was strangled.

She went to him immediately. Declan turned his head slowly, seeing bright lights pop in his vision, to see the wavering image of the two of them standing together over the soaked she-cat. From this angle, all he could see was the slick wet fur of her shoulder and the ample swell of her belly.

_She's with kits? _Declan was shocked. What would a soon-to-be mother be doing so close to the dangerous brook?

Willow let out a startled little cry, soft and pained. "No," she whispered.

"What?" Declan asked, his voice slurred. He got to his paws shakily, his legs trembling, but no one was paying any attention to him anymore. And as he got closer to the she-cat, Declan knew why.

The pregnant she-cat that had almost drowned wasn't some random cat. It was Audrey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Clear the way! Come on, move!" Flint was yowling into the Warren's gate, where everyone gathered. There was a mingling sense of curiosity and dread in the air and a heartbeat later, Declan heard what they were saying.

"Is it another body?"

"Oh, stars, don't let it be one of ours."

"That killer's struck again. We have to do something about this!"

Declan, holding Audrey's deadweight in his jaws, pushed past them, feeling eyes scorch his pelt. They, like him, hadn't realized that one of their own had come back to them—though how damaged, no one knew.

He passed by Gravel and River, standing side-by-side, staring, past Jenny and Ren and Pip and Vivian. Even Dahlia was standing there, her pale beauty startling in the bright light. Declan looked away from her quickly before his thoughts could run away from him.

The healing den was already full of cats by the time they got there. Lucky, Viktor, Kite, and River were there, with Streak and Iggy poking their heads out of one of the dens. Streak scooted forward when Declan brought Audrey in.

"Is she dead?" he asked, his eyes wide.

His mother hushed him, brushing her nose across his head. Any other time she would have clouted him but Declan could see the crust around his nose and how watery his eyes were. Streak sniffed miserably as he watched.

Flint led them to the very back den, out of reach of all prying eyes. He scrambled to put together a nest while Lucky interrogated him in that slow, even tone. Flint didn't answer him, ignoring him completely. "Over here, Declan. Set her here."

Declan lowered Audrey gently into the nest. He noticed that a thin stream of blood was trickling out of her slightly parted jaws. "Is she bleeding?"

"A pregnant she-cat so far out into the woods," Lucky mused. "This is a very strange occurrence."

"Where is her family? Is she a pet?" Viktor sniffed Audrey's pelt. "Poor dear."

Declan felt numb. They didn't even recognize her.

Then Streak tottered forward, his eyes narrowed in thought. Then his jaw dropped. "_Audrey?"_

There was a beat of absolute silence.

"Impossible," Lucky said, but now his voice was no longer even.

"Audrey left us moons ago!" Kite exclaimed. "She disappeared! We thought she was dead!"

"Well, she's not," Flint said, propping up Audrey's neck with careful paws. "She's very weak. Even before she fell in the water, she was starving. Look, you can count her ribs."

"But…she is pregnant." Lucky sounded absolutely confused, as if he didn't realize she-cats could get pregnant.

"She must have been having such a hard time." Kite stroked Audrey's face with one paw; there were many healed lacerations on the ginger she-cat's face, just beneath her ginger pelt. Now that she was drying off, her tabby stripes became far more evident. "Poor little scrap."

There was a scuffle behind them and Twist came tearing into the den. She stopped at the sight of so many cats clustered together, blinking rapidly. Then she slid to Declan's side, reaching up to touch her nose to a slash on his shoulder—one he hadn't even noticed. "They told me you leapt in a river," she said, her voice smooth and level.

He wasn't fooled. Twist was at her calmest when she was most stressed.

He pushed his head against hers, purring. "I didn't die, though. That's good, right?"

Twist closed her eyes to half-slits. She didn't say anything else.

"Twist," Lucky said, and then her attention was caught again. "Audrey has been found."

Twist gasped. "What?" Then her eyes fixed on the she-cat at her paws and dismay shot across her face. "No. What happened to her?"

"That is unknown for now," Lucky said slowly. "She was found only a few moments ago. Declan acted very bravely. She would have been lost otherwise."

Declan bent his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Lucky."

Lucky returned his nod, then turned to Flint. "Why has she not awoken yet?"

Flint looked uncertain. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's going to be a long healing process for her, when she does wake up. She's half-starved. Wherever she's been, she's had a hard time." He lifted her paw to display the roughened pads. "Somewhere in the no-pelt territory. Their rough paths do this to paws." His paws brushed down her flanks to where cuts and scrapes lifted the fur in scabs and scars. He ended on her hind paw, where a thick twisting weal rose up to her haunch. "She has seen very rough battle."

Viktor and Kite let out a soft sound at the same time—a wistful kind of sigh.

Streak sniffled again, stepping forward to sniff at Audrey's flank. "What about her kits? Will they be okay?"

Twist moved unconsciously almost at his sad voice until she was next to him. She drew him to her side, licking his ear. Streak leaned into her, comforted.

Flint said, "I don't know. It's a very small litter."

"When will they be born?" Lucky asked.

"Soon. Very soon." Flint twisted his jaw. "Maybe that's why she was coming back here."

"I see." Lucky's dark eyes drifted from Audrey to nothingness. He was clearly thinking hard. "Please take care of her, Flint. Alert me if anything changes." He turned to Viktor and murmured something into the tom's ear. He started to walk away, stopping by Declan's side. "Are you uninjured?"

His lungs burned and every muscle in his body ached, but that was nothing compared to Audrey's suffering. "Yes," he lied.

Lucky's dark eyes flickered. "Thank you for what you did. Your bravery saved Audrey's life. I hope you continue to look after her. She will need friends when she awakens."

The unspoken _If she awakens _hung in the still air for a moment before Lucky moved on, taking the spectators along in his wake until it was only Flint, Declan, Twist, and Audrey.

Flint got to work quickly mashing up herbs to place on Audrey's fresher cuts. His touch was expert. It was done within several silent moments, wherein Declan and Twist watched anxiously.

"How could this have happened?" Twist murmured, her words only for Declan.

He sighed lightly, regretting it immediately when his lungs shrieked in protest. "I don't know," he said, his voice raspy. "I don't know where she went or where she's been."

Flint flicked his ears. "She'll tell us herself," he said firmly, wiping his paws off on some moss. "When she wakes up."

"When will that be?" Twist asked.

Flint's eyes didn't move away from Audrey. "Soon. The herbs I gave her should help rouse her. It might take awhile. If you want to sit around and wait, you'll have to be my eyes for her. I have to tend to my other patients. They need this leaf juice. So can you handle her?"

"We can," Twist said.

Flint nodded. "Call me if anything happens, okay?"

Declan turned his eyes to Audrey's face. The bones seemed so sharp beneath her ragged pelt. Why had she ever left the Sliders? They had protected her, kept her safe and fed. Why had she decided to just leave them?

They sat in silence, listening to the rise and fall of Audrey's breathing. It was uneven, a lopsided sound, as if she'd been running. Her eyelids fluttered as the eyes beneath wheeled aimlessly. Her lip curled in a growl.

Declan fell into a low doze, his chin resting on his chest. His fur had dried completely now, fluffing out warmly, keeping his body heat close. In his mind, the brook scene played over and over again.

What if he hadn't jumped in after her? What if he had let her float by? He hadn't known that it was Audrey he was watching drown. What if he hadn't been there at the right time? Could she have saved herself? Herself and her unborn kits?

And who was the father of those kits? Had Audrey gotten a mate in the moon cycles she'd been gone? And where was he now?

"Declan." Twist's voice startled him out of his sleep. He hadn't realized he'd actually drifted off until he snapped awake, eyes opening. It was dark, the hole in the ceiling letting in only the faintest half-light.

"Wh-what?" He shook his head, trying to clear the fuzziness from his brain.

Twist was sitting closer to Audrey now, her paw extended. Audrey's rested on top of it.

Declan stood, sweeping around to stand behind her.

Audrey's eyes were the faintest slits, glittering like dawn light off of smooth water. They looked without seeing, her mouth moving.

"What?" Twist frowned, leaning closer. "What did you say, Audrey?"

Audrey's eyes opened the tiniest bit further, making her highly dilated pupils more visible. She cleared her throat, a tiny sound, and opened her mouth. "I found him."

Declan and Twist exchanged a fleeting glance.

"Found who?" Declan asked softly, stepping closer.

Audrey looked up into his eyes, her own swirling with confusion and exhaustion.

"I found Snit."

* * *

><p><strong>"Wait, what?" - Everyone Who Read This<strong>

**I know, I know. Don't worry, all will be explained. ;)**

**-informercial tune-**

**HEY, YOU. YOU SITTING THERE.**

**UNKNOWN SOLDIER SHADOW HERE WITH ANOTHER GOOD IDEA!**

**Are you a Nerdfighter? Do you enjoy writing and reading? Would you like the chance for your writing to be viewed by hundreds if not at least ten individuals?**

**Then Tales From Your Pants is the lit magazine for you!**

**-commerical over-**

**Seriously. Me and my friend CascadingScrawl are making a Nerdfighting literary magazine. We're in the gathering supplies, getting people, ideas phase still but THINK: you could have your writing here on the internets! We're starting off online but we could even move to print if we get enough people wanting to enter.**

**If you're interested, come on down to YourPants. It's a dot org kind of site. The forum page you'll be looking for is Nerdfighting Literary Magazine Project. **

**Oh, and don't mention that I sent you. I'm kind of too old to be writing Warriors fanfiction. XD**

**But if you wanna test it out, come on down! We'll be waiting!**

**SHADOW OUT.**

**But seriously, come on down! It'll be superfun. What have you got to lose?**

**Anyway.**

**You know what to do.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	5. Reality and Fantasy

**Hey hey! It's been awhile, hasn't it? My bad. School, sleep, homework. Wash, rinse, repeat. You know.**

**Also, I'm starting to quilt. My friend's teachin' me! Soon, I will have a room filled with all the things I've made. :DDDDDD**

**Anyway. XD**

**Tangleflame - Hahaha. The dirty dirty. That made me lol. XD**

**Icestar0921 - Indeed he is.**

**Queen Of The Pens - Hahaha. Bring Snit back from the dead? Nooo, I wouldn't do that. XD**

**Koraki - I always want to write "Kokori" for your name. It must be my Zelda brain. XD Aaw, I'm sorry. The hiatusness is definitely over for now, though. :D**

**tufted titmouse - Hee! It's okay, titmouse, because I am also a nerd. I just got a shirt that's Poe's poem The Raven in the shape of a raven. And now it'll be my shirt to wear all the time, FOREVER. XD Wooot about school! I was excited too...until it started. XD**

**tanglestar11 - Hee~! Thankies! And here's an update!**

**LegendaryHero - I'd like to think Twist being upset at Declan is a regular occurance. Twist is too stubborn to tell Declan what he needs to hear and Declan is too self-conscious to ever tell Twist anything honestly. Aaah~ Such angst. Flint is lame now, definitely. I figure he's trying to hard to be impressing and he keeps failing. XD I'm gonna put a few more scenes of him being all flushed and awkward just 'cause I think he's adorable that way. XD Hee! Good to see my mind-screw abilities are still fully functional! :D**

**theDiabolical - I know. What can I say? I love dem cliffies.**

**Rapidfeather - Woohoo! Happy birthday, Rapidfeather! For the occasion, I have prepared a short song. -clears throat- _Happy happy birthday, from crazy Shad to you! Happy happy birthday, another year you grew! WOO!_**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Very sage words, Silvertail! It's not that I'm embarrassed with my silly little kitty stories, but sometimes I feel I should be writing for Harry Potter or something instead of Pokemon and Warriors. XD But you should write what you love and I love them both! The cold season hasn't ended because...uh, there's a really bad freeze. Like a blizzard. Huge blizzard. Or maybe because I can't do math. But most likely the former. XD**

**Ravenshade - WHAT IS NERDFIGHTERS? -GASP- You must be educated now, Ravenshade. You must go to the YouTubes and you must look up the Vlogbrothers and you must JOIN UUUUUUUUUS! -full of Nerdfighter fervor- In all honesty, Nerdfighters are people who are made of awesome and aren't afraid to be nerds. It's about being what you are and accepting everyone for who they are. Truly beautiful. And also being fans of John and Hank Green. ;) Hahaha, you're reading my older stuff? God, just don't judge me for them. I'd like to think I've gotten better since then. XD**

**artemis7337 - Ooh, I forget to review almost everytime I read something. XD Haha! Nobody seems to like Dahlia! Does she really look that suspicious? She's just a pretty, lonely, little she-cat. ;) And learning about Audrey? No problem! Heeeeeere's her entire story. Well, almost all of it. If it really was all of it, that would be boring. So here's the good parts. XD**

**Crowstorm - Oh, yeah, I understand the busy thing. School seems to come and suck all the time right out of me. I just sit down to do something and suddenly it's 12:30 and I'm only doing ANs instead of writing and I should be trying to go to sleep to wake up for Labor Day tomorrow. You know. For example. XD**

**Whew. Those keep getting longer and longer. People are gonna start thinking I cheat my wordcount. But that sucker is EARNED with this story. XD**

**Enough with the chitta-chatta!**

**Onto the story~!**

**"You are a tedious fool."**

****_Measure for Measure_, Act 2, Scene 1****

* * *

><p>Audrey's words went through Twist like a spear of ice.<p>

"I found Snit."

"Audrey…" Twist looked helplessly at Declan, who hadn't moved his eyes from Audrey's wounded face. His expression was pained.

"Oh, Audrey," he whispered.

Heart panging at that, Twist turned back to Audrey. She seemed to be more awake, her eyes a little brighter, a little greener. Her face was so different—rough and jagged like she'd run through brambles—her pelt ripped by scars from battles or accidents. Even her scent was different—not the milky, warm scent of a queen, but a strange bitter curl that made Twist want to wrinkle her nose. Like something rotten or dying.

"Audrey," Twist began hesitantly. She looked at Declan for encouragement, got a faint sort of weariness from him, and turned back to her. "Audrey…Snit's…gone. He's dead."

Each word seemed to reach Audrey through a long tunnel. She blinked. "Yes?" She sounded confused.

Twist bit her lip. "How can you find him if he's already dead, Audrey?"

Audrey's eyes widened slightly, revealing more of the green. Twist noticed that her eyes were fairly bloodshot, as if she hadn't slept in days. "I…" She looked guiltily at Declan. "I can't…"

"Declan, why don't you go tell Lucky and Flint that she's awake," Twist said softly.

He looked a little hurt by that but went all the same. He bent close and brushed his muzzle against Twist's; she reveled in the contact for the briefest heartbeats before he was gone. Audrey watched with a kind of wistful expression that made Twist feel immediately ashamed.

Audrey watched him go. "You're together?"

"Yes," Twist said.

"You love him, don't you, Twist?" The wistful note in her voice intensified.

Twist didn't respond.

Audrey didn't seem to expect a response anyway. She sighed heavily. "I never loved him, you know."

"Who?" Twist whispered.

Audrey didn't answer for a moment. Her eyes still on the tunnel, she let out a slow, uneven breath. It had a kind of weightiness to it that made Twist want to reach out and stroke Audrey's fur and comfort her. Then Audrey moved her head slightly, rolling around to look Twist in the eye, and said, "Snit. I never loved him. Not when he was alive, anyway."

Twist was struck by the words.

She had known that Snit loved Audrey—he had possibly loved her as long as he'd known her. The night before the final battle, the one that claimed Snit's life, he had admitted to Twist that he was in love with Audrey. Twist had thought often of Snit since that day. He had been a traitor to both sides but never to any of his convictions. His love for Audrey had been what made him decide in the end, how he had made up his mind to defy his master and help the Sliders. It had been Snit who turned the tide of battle. Without him injuring the Rogue, the Sliders would have been decimated. Every single one of them owed him their lives, even though he was long dead now, slumbering forever beneath the light snow.

Twist wasn't sure if she believed in spirits but she hoped that Snit was still watching over them. Her mother had often spoken of her own mother—who had died some time before Twist had been born—and how she would watch over Spirit. Twist thought the idea was romantic—that even after death, loved ones stayed close—but it had never struck her particularly.

At least, not until Snit died.

Audrey let out a sharp breath. "I didn't love him. He…he told me…before he died, he said…"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Twist said, and now she did reach out a paw, laying it gently atop Audrey's wasted forepaw.

But Audrey growled, "I want to," and Twist fell silent.

"Before he died, Snit told me everything. How he was born in the Claws, how he obeyed the Rogue. How he had been chosen to infiltrate the Sliders, to gain their trust, before he led the Claws into the Warren to destroy us all. He told me he had every intention of doing that." Her voice shook. "Before he met me. He told me that it was me that changed his mind. He said once he saw me and met me and…and fell in love with me, he couldn't go through with it. He didn't want to have to watch me die.

"And he also told me that…that his entire life, he felt like a part of him was missing. And how after he met me, he found that piece. Like I somehow did something to help him realize that—" She turned her head away as her voice broke. Still facing the wall, Audrey said, "And I never knew. I never realized that he loved me. He was nothing but a friend to me. My best friend, but a friend still." She turned back. "I never loved him. Not until he was already dead and there was nothing I could do.

"I was broken. Shattered. I couldn't do anything. Snit died awhile later, after he told me all of this, and I just…stood there. I couldn't move. I just stared down at him beneath that hazel bush. He was gone. Just like that. Everything that was Snit was just…just a black and white pelt and a puddle of drying blood. My best friend was gone."

"Oh, Audrey." Twist felt her own heart ache for her friend. "Why didn't you come to us?"

Audrey blinked slowly, pitifully, up at Twist. "I couldn't," she whispered. "I couldn't let anyone see me like that. I couldn't. Not even you and Declan. You were so in love. I could hardly stand to look at you. You had everything that Snit wanted for me and him. And I knew I could never have that—not really—because Snit was dead. I had to get out of there. I had to. There wasn't any other option.

"So I left. Early in the morning, before anyone was up. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't like goodbyes. I didn't even say goodbye to Snit. Do you know what I said instead?" Twist didn't answer as Audrey went on, her voice sounding almost strangled. "I said 'goodnight.' Like he was going to sleep. And he kind of laughed a little—Snit never really laughed—and said, 'Goodnight, Audrey.' And then he was gone."

"What did you do?" Twist whispered. "Where did you go?"

"Out into the no-pelt's territory first. I didn't stay there long. Past there is a forest. And another after that. And then another no-pelt territory. I was so weak by then. I hadn't eaten in days. I couldn't find water. My paws were bleeding and scabbing. I had to rest and couldn't find a place to lay down that wasn't frozen. I couldn't sleep—I hadn't slept but once since I left the Sliders. Every time I shut my eyes, he was there. Snit. Watching me. Softly. Not the way he ever did when he was alive. My brain had seized on him, on the only cat who had really loved me, and wouldn't let him go. I couldn't let Snit go, Twist. He was the only thing I had left.

"I finally found a spot: it was some kind of no-pelt home with a burrow beneath it. Probably from another cat. I crawled down inside it and didn't come out for three days. By then I was dying. I knew it. I could feel myself drifting away. I almost wanted it. I could see Snit again that way. It would be peaceful. It was cold outside, still snowing. I could just find a nice spot and lay down and go to sleep. And not wake up."

"But you didn't," Twist murmured.

Audrey silently shook her head. "I couldn't. How could I allow myself to die when Snit tried so hard to keep me alive? He was with me, all the time. In my mind, talking to me. It must have just been myself talking, slowly going crazy in that dark burrow. I felt like I had to do something to live but couldn't. Like my paws were weighed down with rocks.

"And then I decided enough was enough. I forced myself to my paws and went out into the woods to hunt for myself. I found a cat there, a she-cat named Lily. She told me there were others of us around and asked if I wanted to come eat with them. She was concerned for me." She chuckled then, snapping Twist out of the narrative. "I would be, too. In just that short amount of time, I'd turned myself into a raggedy pelt across bones.

"Lily led me to her friends. There were other cats there, some toms. I looked at them and hurt. They all looked like Snit to me. I found myself looking for him in their faces. I stayed with them for awhile and made it into a habit. I'd find what I thought looked like Snit about cats I met. This tom was black and white but had yellow eyes. This tom had Snit's same ears. This tom walked in a way that reminded me of Snit. It wasn't until I met Toby that any of that changed."

"Toby?" Twist echoed.

"He was a gray tabby. He had this sort of aura about him, like he was taller than he was. He was brave. He was thoughtful and gentle." Then she let out a harsh sound, half-laugh and half-scoff. "At least, in my mind he was. In reality, he was a scrawny, mean-tempered, belligerent tom."

_So just like Snit was, _Twist thought quickly.

As if reading her thoughts, Audrey said, "His temperament first reminded me of Snit's. But he was much crueler than Snit. He would catch prey without killing it just to watch it squirm. He once found a dog—a tiny scrap too young to know any better—and attacked it, sending it home with ripped ears and a slashed pelt." She shuddered. "One time was the worst: he caught a bird and tore out all its flight feathers. He kept it alive for days, in pain and terrified and unable to get away, before I snuck into his den in the middle of the night and put it out of its misery."

"Why did you spend so much time with him, then? You obviously knew him well."

Audrey looked hollow now, like her story was aging her. "He had eyes like Snit." When Twist looked confused, she brought a paw up to Twist's face, just barely brushing her cheek. "One green," she whispered then, her eyes very far away, "one yellow. Just like Snit."

"What did you do, Audrey?" Twist whispered, not moving away from her touch.

Audrey looked at Twist for a heartbeat longer before slowly removing her paw. "I tried to convince myself that he was like Snit," she said. "That his personality was all a trick he pulled, a game he played. I thought that I could change him—like I changed Snit."

Twist said, "But it didn't work."

"I didn't know I was expecting his kits until it was too late. I didn't want my kits to grow up fearful. I didn't want my kits to know their father was a monster. Toby was clueless. Another of the she-cat's—a miserable, sniveling little thing that wanted Toby's attentions solely for herself—told him I was going to have kits. He was _happy. _He wanted a son to teach his ways to. When I suggested that it might be a she-cat, he dismissed me. That thought didn't cross his mind. It was going to be a son or it wouldn't be his kit, he told me.

"I knew then that I had to get out of there. I was already far along, my belly bulging, when I finally made up my mind. Without telling anyone—not even Lily, who I had grown to like—I snuck out of there and ran. I managed to get halfway across the forest before I collapsed. It took me a few days to recover there. I was terrified that I would have my kits then and there and have no way to protect them." She looked up at Twist. "And then I remembered where I could go. Where I was welcome. With friends."

"So you came back to the Warren." Twist sighed heavily then. "Audrey, why? Why did you do it?"

Audrey's eyes were misty now. "I had to," she whispered. "You wouldn't understand."

"I would. If only you have told me. I could have helped you."

"No one could have helped me," she rasped. "I was too far gone. You wouldn't have understood. It would have been beyond understanding to you. You've never lost a cat you loved. It would be as if Declan died."

Twist couldn't help it—she winced at those words. At once, as if Audrey's words had somehow clicked into place, lighting with comprehension, Twist understood. A world without Declan would be utterly devoid of anything joyful. She couldn't even imagine it. She didn't want to.

"Twist, please, you have to keep this all a secret. I told you about it because you're my friend. Please don't tell Declan or Lucky. No one has to know."

"Lucky's going to ask about the father," Twist pointed out.

"Don't tell him. He doesn't need to know. No one does."

"Then why did you tell me?" Twist whispered, pained.

Audrey moved her eyes to the ceiling, closing them. "I had to tell someone. It was tearing me apart."

"What are you going to do now? Your…your kits?"

"They will be raised as Sliders. Just like I was."

"And when they ask who their father is?" Twist asked. "What are you going to tell them?"

Audrey's eyes opened, shining silvery in the moonlight. "Snit is their father."

"Audrey, that's wrong. You can't do that."

"In my mind, he is. He's the only one who would ever be worthy of it. I can't tell them anything else." Audrey sighed heavily, her chest rising and falling as she fought for breath. "Twist, you have to swear. Swear it for me now. You won't tell anyone. Not even Declan."

At that moment, Lucky and Flint came sweeping in, Declan behind them. He strode to Audrey's side, brushing Twist's back with his tail as he went. Such a simply contact, a reassurance. Something Audrey would never have from the cat she loved.

Audrey's green eyes fixed on Twist past Lucky's back. They hardened. _Swear._

And, after a moment of hesitation, Twist nodded in agreement.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What did she tell you?" As soon as they were on their way back to their den, Declan started peppering Twist with questions. "Anything about where she's been? What about those kits? Does she have a mate?"

"I don't know," Twist lied. It hurt, lying to Declan, but she had to do it. She had promised. And besides, she thought, he had his own secrets, too. This would be her only one. "She just said she was happy to be back with the Sliders. She missed us. Mostly she just napped. She's still really weak."

Declan took her lies without a trace of doubt, something Twist noticed with a pang of unhappiness. "She's going to be fine now. We've got her again."

_Yeah, but what if Toby comes looking for her? What are we going to say then? _Twist pushed the thought out of her mind, not wanting to dwell on such dark subjects for any longer than usual. _You should be happy that Audrey's back. You don't have to be negative anymore. There's nothing to be mad or upset about._

But then someone strode silkily into her path and all thoughts of peace fled Twist's mind.

"Hello!" Dahlia purred, her eyes only flicking over Twist before resting on Declan. "I was coming to ask about that she-cat. Who is she, again? A rogue?"

"Our friend," Twist said rather tersely.

"That she-cat sure looked thin. And being pregnant and thin at the same time is definitely not good. I hope she recovers. It would be a shame if she died."

"Okay, first of all," Twist cut in. "Her name is Audrey. And secondly, you shouldn't be talking about anyone being a rogue. Why haven't you gone back to your no-pelts?"

"No-pelts?" Dahlia frowned slightly, her head to the side. "What are those? Cats with no fur?"

"Your housefolk." Declan spoke gently, as if to a kit. Twist felt an immediate pang of resentment for his tone.

"Ohh." Dahlia drew out the word thoughtfully. "No, I don't have any of those. I live with my friends. I was going to meet one in the forest but he never showed up."

"Yes, you've already explained that to everyone with a working pair of ears," Twist snapped. "I'm getting a little tired of your complaining. Why don't you go tell some cat who gives a rat-tail?"

"Twist!" Declan said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, no, it's okay." Dahlia's eyes were downcast now, making the gold look much darker. "I don't mean to be pushy. I just wanted to be friends with you, Twist. After all, you were the first Slider I met."

Twist refused to let herself feel guilty over this she-cat. She rubbed her fur the wrong way—mostly because of her increasingly dramatic theatrics. "You need to keep your nose in your own business. Stop trying to pry into mine."

"I'm not! I want to be your friend!"

_I'd rather cover myself with kindling and run through a wildfire than be your friend, _Twist thought, though aloud said, "I'd prefer you to find different friends."

Dahlia purred again; when she did, her eyes narrowed to happy slits, her long eyelashes curving up past her cheekbones. "Oh, I couldn't have that. I'll be friends with you. I bet I'll have you as my best friend by the next full moon."

"Oh, I couldn't let you do that," Twist said breezily, pushing past her. "You should never put a bet on something you have no chance of winning."

"Twist," Declan warned. Twist turned, surprised to see real anger on his face. "Stop it."

Twist, now feeling a curl of discomfort, if only for Declan's being upset at her, said, "Okay, I'm sorry, Dahlia. But I don't want to be friends with you. I think we're…incompatible."

Dahlia said infuriatingly, "We'll see. It was nice to see you, Twist. Declan, maybe we could go hunting later? I need someone to protect me so that killer doesn't get me. They say he goes after pretty she-cats." She laughed lightly there, a little trill of sound.

Twist couldn't help herself. "Oh yeah. You can tell that's how it is, since Bronze got killed first. He was the prettiest she-cat in the whole forest." She stomped off before she could say anything else, hearing Declan apologize for her behind her back.

She veered sharply to the side before reaching her den, stalking by the kits' den. "Streak! Get your little tail out here. Your littermates, too."

They appeared in a line in front of her, looking gleeful at her sudden appearance.

"Twist, are you taking us hunting?" Whisper demanded.

"Sure, why not." Twist seized on the idea. "Let's get someone else to come with us." A thought struck her at once. "How about River? He needs some exercise."

The kits agreed with a loud chorus of yowls and they were off. They practically swept River along in a sea of enthusiasm and soft fur, down the metal tunnel, past the line of box-nests, and out to where Ren was on guard duty at the gate.

Ink's brother, identical to his lost brother in looks, blinked when they approached. "Hunting party?" he asked.

"We're going to catch all the prey in the forest!" Streak announced.

"Or at least _something," _Adder muttered.

Ren looked amused. "I wish I could go. The thaw is starting. All the prey's coming out of their hollows. It'll be easy hunting."

"I don't want easy hunting!" Violet said, politely but insistently. "I want to catch the fattest rabbit in the woods."

Ren ruffled her head with one paw fondly. "I'm sure," he purred. "You'll have to show it to me when you catch it."

Violet, looking pleased, sidestepped from beneath his paw. Her footing was a little off, Twist noticed with some amusement.

They said their goodbyes to Ren with a final, "Be careful," from him before melting into the woods.

"Okay," Twist said, trying to keep everyone focused. "Let's break up into two groups. Is that okay, River?" The kits turned to her, eyes wide. They all had Viktor's yellow eyes. All except for Adder, whose blue eyes more closely resembled his mother's.

And Kip's.

Twist felt a pang of loss that she quickly tamped down when she thought about Viktor's mother, her friend from the Claws. She had been ill even before the battle and fought anyway, losing her life in the fight for the Sliders. She hadn't even met her grandkits before she died.

River said, "I'll take two and you can take two. Who do you want?"

"I'm with Twist," Streak said immediately. "Me and Adder."

"I wanted to go with River," Adder complained lightly, looking annoyed. "He's a better hunter than Twist. No offense."

Twist pulled a face. "None taken," she said in a deadpan. "And I think last time I hunted, I didn't cause a landslide."

Adder's eyes glinted. "I didn't do that. I told everyone, the soil was loose there."

"It was on the riverbank. The ground is wet."

"That makes it a mudslide!" Adder said, his voice increasingly pitching.

Streak laughed, more at his brother's embarrassment than his expense, and said, "Okay, then. We'll have a contest. Whoever catches the most prey, wins. Deal?"

Adder swept around, his shoulder fur bristling. He and Streak had the same thick fur as their father. "Deal," he agreed. "But Violet's with me."

"Why not me?" Whisper demanded.

"Because you're about as subtle as a rockslide." Adder smirked.

Whisper, not to be outdone, said, "You would know, wouldn't you, Adder?"

That made his smirk vanish. "Whoever loses has to sleep out in the snow."

"Deal," Streak said.

"Deal," Adder agreed, turning away to River, who was standing a bit further away wearing a confused expression. "Are we going now?"

"S-sure." River looked over his head at Twist. "Is that fine with you?"

Twist, feeling that sweet rush of a challenge singing through her veins, said, "It's no problem at all."

River let out a hum of laugher, dipping his head. "See you at the finish line, then. How about at halfway between midday and sunset?"

Twist looked into the sky. That was plenty of time to hunt; it was still early morning. "Alright, then. See you."

"See you."

Whisper and Streak were already away, slipping into the forest in the direction of the no-pelt's territory. Twist ran ahead of them, easily overtaking them on her longer legs, and said, "Where do you think you're going?"

Streak looked confused. "To hunt?"

"No, no. No way. You're heading into trouble. Don't you see what direction you're going?"

Streak craned his neck, looking over Whisper's shoulder. "Into…the forest?"

"Wrong. You're heading for no-pelt territory."

Whisper blinked. Then, with total conviction, said, "No."

Twist put her head to the side. "No?"

"No, this isn't the way to no-pelt territory."

Twist laughed. "Yes, it is. I've been in these woods before, you know."

"Then you should know this doesn't lead there," Whisper said, a little testily.

Now Twist was losing her patience. First she had to deal with Audrey's tragic past, then Dahlia flirting shamelessly with Declan, and now a bunch of belligerent kits. "Look, we're turning around."

"Twist, I really think we should go this way," Whisper said firmly. "I've been this way before."

"Whisper," Streak warned.

"What?" she demanded, turning on her brother. "You think I'm lying?"

"I think you're just…mistaken. I mean, I've been out here before, too, but everything looks the same in the winter. Look." He flicked his tail at the trees around them. "Dead tree, dead tree, dead tree. Oh, look there, another dead tree. Sometimes a stump. Maybe a rock. But it all looks the same. So come on, Whisper. Let's follow Twist. She knows this place."

Whisper looked a little disgruntled. "Fine. Even though I'm pretty sure this is the right way, let's follow Twist. After all, she'd always go with your suggestions anyway. Especially over the rest of us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Twist demanded.

Whisper glared up at her. Twist found herself disliking this new, rough side of her. She'd always been an outspoken kit but now this was rubbing Twist's fur the wrong way. "You favor Streak. We all know it."

"I do not!" Twist argued.

"Sure. We all know Streak's your little favorite." Whisper stamped a front paw, her white pelt bristling. "Well, I'm tired of being the least-favorite of everyone. I'm just as smart as them, just as strong, just as good of a hunter."

"No one's saying you aren't, Whisper," Streak said.

"Shut up! I'm going to be the greatest Slider in the history of Sliders and then everyone will be comparing _them _to _me!" _Then she turned and ran off into the forest, disappearing among the dead branches.

"Stars," Twist snarled. "Come on, Streak." She took off after her, leaping over the gnarled roots of an oak tree.

_Stupid kit, _Twist thought as she and Streak raced through the silent forest. _She's going to get herself killed going into no-pelt territory! Doesn't she have a lick of sense?_

Then a far more horrifying thought hit her: the cat that killed Jaybird and Bronze was still out here in the forest, unchecked and uncaught.

"Whisper!" Streak called, as if reading Twist's mind. She glanced over to see the little tom scanning the woods, looking for his sister. "This is impossible!" he spat. "She blends right in with the snow. We could have passed right by her."

Twist kept them at a quick pace. "We have to find her. Kite'll kill me if we don't."

Streak turned his face forward again. "Father will kill me when he finds out," he panted. "First me and then Adder for suggesting this and then Violet for being there. Then he'll go into the forest and hunt Whisper down so he can kill her, too."

"Streak." Twist didn't want to hear those violent words.

He glanced up at her quickly. "Sorry."

"Let's just find her. If we do, we don't even have to tell your parents." _Yes, what a great role model you are, Twist, _she thought dryly.

No-pelt territory stretched out in front of her. At the edges of the forest, a smooth path of gray stone covered the ground. It was rough and cold underpaw, chilling Twist and making her shiver. She could see a row of houses in front of her, almost identical to the one her mother and her family lived in. Whisper could be among any of them.

Twist cursed under her breath, looking sharply away from Streak so he couldn't see the fear in her eyes. She was stupid to have brought them all out here. She was stupid to have split up with River. And now a young she-cat was out here, alone, scared and cold and possibly in danger.

Twist cursed again, turning back to the no-pelt houses. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped out of the guarding presence of the trees and into full view.

Streak trotted at her side, his back arched, his head low. His eyes darted around quickly, drinking in the scenery. "Twist, this is really scary."

"I know. We'll just stick together and we'll be fine." She bent her head to sniff the ground, inhaling the scent. Nothing. Traces of other cats, a bit of mud smell, and the overpowering ache of no-pelt machines. It stung her nose.

Streak followed her example, his brow furrowed with concentration. "I can't smell anything," he said.

Twist gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes against the cold cutting wind. They were losing time. They had to find her quickly.

"Maybe we could ask around," Streak suggested. "There are plenty of cats around here. We could ask if they've seen her."

"Good idea. Let's go try that."

The first cat they stumbled upon was a fat tabby she-cat. She was sitting on a low white fence, grooming herself. She looked surprised when they approached. "Hello," she greeted.

"Hello. Have you seen a white she-cat around here?" Twist decided to get right to the point. Already, the she-cat's pale blue eyes were taking in their rough appearance, the scars that laced through Twist's pelt. Soon, her fear of the unknown would overtake her. At least, that's what Twist assumed.

The she-cat put her head to the side. "You mean Candyfloss?"

"Uh, no."

"What about Snowball?"

"No."

"Ivory? Silvia? Penny?"

"No, her name is Whisper. She's about his age." Twist flicked her tail to Streak, who was too busy looking awkward and nervous to speak.

The she-cat's eyes fixed on him. "Poor dear," she simpered. "He needs some fixing up. So thin. Do you want some food, dear?"

Streak's ears perked at that. "Pet food?"

"Of course. There's plenty to go around if your friend would like some, too."

"No, we don't want food," Twist said, ignoring the look Streak shot her. "Thank you for your time."

"You know," the she-cat called after them. "If you're looking for a cat, you might want to try the lower brook. It's a bit of a walk from here, but that's where all the cats come from that aren't pets."

Twist turned quickly, her veins running cold. "We're from the lower brook."

The she-cat looked stunned. She leapt down off the fence with a supple ripple of tabby pelt and stepped close. Only then did Twist realize how much larger the she-cat was than her, how small she made Twist feel in comparison. The tabby looked between Twist's eyes, squinting.

"You don't look like one," she said, her voice remarkably colder.

Shrinking away, Twist said, "Like what?"

"A murderer."

Streak hissed. "Twist didn't kill anyone!"

The she-cat's eyes widened. "But you said you're from the lower brook," she said slowly, confused.

"We're Sliders."

"Sliders? Where do you slide to?"

"No, it's the name of our group." Twist, heart already racing from Whisper's disappearance, was losing patience with this she-cat. "Why do you think cats disappear there?"

Now she shifted uncomfortably. "I've heard stories. In this town, there's a group of cats that kind of boss everyone around. I don't like them very much. They came over one time to try to get me to join up with them. To protect me against cats from the lower brook." She delicately wrinkled her nose. "I said no."

"But what do they say about us?"

She shifted her weight again. "They say that cats from that area are bloodthirsty. That we need to stop them, to protect ourselves and our families. It was awhile ago but there was this huge group of cats that used to live right in the woods there. They took a bunch of cats from town and we never saw them again." She looked away, her eyes downcast. "Blackjack says we have to make sure they don't catch anymore of us."

"Blackjack?"

"He's the leader of the group here. He says that certain types of cats have to be watched. I think he's just very paranoid. He got very upset when I didn't want to join his group. They call themselves Watchers. They look out for us. Walk along the borders of town, looking for weird cats, that kind of thing. Blackjack makes sure that the town is protected. Even though I didn't want to be a Watcher, I am very pleased they exist, I have to say. I don't want to feel threatened."

"Would Blackjack know where my friend went?"

She shook her head. "The Watchers haven't made their rounds over here yet. But they will soon. I suggest you get out of here as quickly as you can. You don't want him to catch you here." Her voice softened. "I'll watch out for your friend, okay? I'll tell her you were looking for her if I see her."

"Thank you." Twist felt a curious buzzing sensation in her belly. Watchers. They sounded like the patrols Lucky wanted to instate to protect the borders. He'd definitely be curious about them.

But then, Twist would have to tell him about this exploit first.

They said goodbye to the she-cat, named Grace, she told them, and returned to the woods.

Just inside the forest, Twist looked around to see a trio of cats approach Grace. The one in front, a very handsome and sleek black tom with thick fur, spoke to her in a quiet voice before whipping his head around and staring directly at the bush Twist was hiding beneath. He had very bright green eyes.

Then he looked away and Twist could breathe again. She eased out of the bush backwards and raced after Streak.

He was waiting for her, dancing from paw to paw. "Twist, what are we going to do?"

She sighed heavily, looking off into the woods. It was nearly time to meet with River. How was she going to explain a missing cat?

"I don't know," she said, both to herself and Streak. "Come on. Let's check out the—"

A scream split the air.

"_Whisper!"_ Without waiting for Twist, Streak took off in the direction of the screams that still rose in the air.

Twist followed, ignoring the pain of her aching paws, her scratched pads, and focused completely on navigating the woods. They were rapidly approaching the sound, which peaked and broke as Whisper shrieked.

They came to a clearing, thick with the scent of blood and fear.

"Whisper!" Streak howled.

His sister was pinned beneath the paws of a silky silver she-cat. To Twist's surprise, the blood in the air wasn't Whisper's—who struggled and hissed and bit, raking her claws down her antagonist's flanks—but the silver she-cat.

Twist felt her heart leap to her throat as she realized she recognized the she-cat.

"Hello, Twist." Sorrow was panting heavily, blood dripping down her face from her closed eye—the blue one, Twist remembered very numbly—and she was so thin Twist could count her ribs. Emerging from the trees behind her like shadows came the Claws, lining up behind Sorrow in a smooth, unbroken line. "Would you mind escorting me to the Warren? I'd like to speak with Lucky."

* * *

><p><strong>So we got a lot going on in this chapter. XD<strong>

**Hopefully it didn't feel rushed. I might cry if it is. -tears up-**

**Nah, just kidding. XD**

**I was gonna tell you guys an interesting story but I can't think of any. Hmm... OH!**

**I was coming home from school the other day and there was a tortoise in the road all scared and in his shell and stuff so I got out of my car, ran across, and put him on the other side. You're supposed to put the tortoise in the direction he's facing, you know, otherwise he'll just turn right back around and go back.**

**Such stubborn reptiles.**

**I saved his life.**

**And he never even called me back.**

**Floozy.**

**Anyway, you know what to do.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	6. Trust and Deceit

**God, I've had so much homework recently. Sorry it took me so long to get this up. I've been writing like mad every chance I get! Promise!**

**But it's been a good little bit of working. I had my workshop for this little short story I have about a boy whose girlfriend got killed in a car accident he caused and her sister comes to get her things. You know! The normal happy stuff I write! XD And I hung out with my friends all day yesterday, working on the Nerdfighter lit mag. It's gonna be so cool! Once Your Pants go back up again. They got hacked. T~T**

**Anyhoo. Review replies!**

**theDiabolical - Hee~! No, laugh all you want! Just as long as it's more of the "Hahahah!" kind and not the "MUWAHAHAHAHAHA!" kind. That kind is a little manic. XD**

**Rapidfeather - AND THEN THE FLOAT COULD PLAY THE SONG! And we could all eat Nyan Cat-shaped cake! And have rainbows EVERYWHERE! I haven't seen the new Transformers yet. I'm very behind on the whole movie-watching thing. I'm mostly a textually-based person. I just got Identical by Ellen Hopkins the other day so I'm working on that. XD**

**anoymus - Kaaaay~! :D**

**Queen Of The Pens - I had to go back and check to see what you meant by your review and I still haven't a clue! -is a little slow today-**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Heehee~! Such good questions! Aaaw, and lucky to have such a long summer break! I'm on my fourth week of classes now!**

**artemis7337 - I loved Snit, too, but he had to go. Not everyone gets to live. Not in this fic, either. :3 I'm glad you like Sorrow! I find her very interesting to write about, but not as much as Lightfoot. Maybe I'll just have a kooky Lightfoot chapter one of these days. Like an omake. XD Yaaaay~! I'm glad I'm fixing the pacing. It gets away from me sometimes. XD**

**LegendaryHero - Haha, but that was when I had free time - lots and lots of free time. And writing is a very good way to escape this boring place we call The Real World. XD I almost put Audrey's story as a whole chapter but I want to be consistent about the PoV thing. We're gonna have a few new cats for this story - other than Declan and Twist, I mean - but I don't want _everybody _to have one so I had to do a kind of framing device. I didn't want the reader to forget Twist was there, even if she was just kinda...chilling. XD Cliffies are meant to do that, though! I find a chapter that doesn't end of a cliffie is rather dull. I want to be left thinking, "Wait, what?" But that just might be me. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Heehee~! Chapter five is a good place to start the angst, I think. And chapter six is a good place to continue it. X3**

**ponyiowa - I've never had a tortoise story before so I just HAD to. XD**

**Ravenshade - Yaaaaaaay~! And my life is like that, too, but with homework and quilting thrown in. Generally I just stay up until four just to get everything done. I set my alarm clock for like 1:30pm most of the time. XD -is a shameless night owl- Whoa, mustache! That reminds me - did you know that Onewhisker's name in the French edition of Warriors is Mustache? It's true. And Tallstar - whom I loved - is named Shooting Star. HOW COOL IS THAT?**

**Tangleflame - Whisper is definitely a brat. But they can't all be the same, can they? And TobyxDahlia? Very interesting, I must say, but sadly no. They've never met. XD**

**Crowstorm - He might have gotten mad at that, though. He kinda hissed a little at me. And wiggled. It was weird. XD Hahaha, Twist was a ninja once? XDDD**

**Icestar0921 - Whooooa, never thought about that. Hmm. A good question. Not gonna answer, but good question! XP**

**Leafwing-Jayfeather Lover - Oh, new reviewer? :O Have a cookie! It's your favorite! -hands over-**

**tufted titmouse - Heehee~! Many suspects! I like that. X3 And yay for school! I'm enjoying it, too!**

**SoccerGeek7699 - Hee~ No one seems to like Dahlia! Maybe she's just a simple, naive she-cat. Maybe, maybe. ;)**

**The Moons Feather - ANOTHER new reviewer? -throws confettti- Welcome to the party! It might get kinda weird, but I hope you enjoy! XD**

**Well, that's that!**

**Oh, right. Our song for this chapter iiiiiiiiiis~:** **Sarah Dawn Finer, "Kärleksvisan"**

**"I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you."**

****_Much Ado About Nothing, _Act 1, Scene 1**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Twist just stared. "Back…to the Warren?"<p>

Sorrow let out a short laugh, dropping her chin to her chest. She stood there a moment, silently staring down at Whisper. Then without looking up said, "Unless Lucky is somewhere else. I need to speak with him. Immediately."

"Then you need to get away from my sister," Streak growled. He stepped towards Sorrow bravely, his chest puffed out. There was a hard glint in his eye and for an instant, Twist saw his father in him.

Sorrow turned to him now. She was twice his size and many times stronger, smarter, and vicious, but she looked interested. "You're very gutsy, aren't you, kit?"

"It's Streak," he corrected her in a snap.

Sorrow relented at that. "Streak," she said, as if testing the sound of the word. "I'll do as you say, Streak." She stepped off of Whisper, who immediately darted to Twist's side. Streak nosed her pelt as she walked by but his eyes remained on Sorrow, watchful and distrusting.

Sorrow stared at him silently for a moment, then turned her eyes to Twist. One was still closed, blood seeping into her soft silver pelt. Twist wondered for a moment how she'd hurt it. Had the Claws had bad times? Judging from the looks of her ragged-pelted followers—many she recognized from her captivity—it looked like their numbers had dropped significantly. There were barely a dozen of them left now, including several older guards and a pair of queens, one with a pale scrap of a kit.

What had happened to the Claws?

Twist said, "I can't bring you back. You could fight us."

And now Sorrow laughed genuinely, the sound harsh and grating. "Please," she scoffed. "Does it look like we're here to fight?" She flicked her tail to where Sparrow stood, his pelt hanging off of him in clumps. His eyes were cloudy and distant. He barely looked conscious let alone ready for battle.

Twist narrowed her eyes. Her mother had fond affections for Sparrow. Seeing him in such a state hurt more than she thought it would have. "Only you can come, Sorrow."

"And Sparrow. And Amber."

Twist leaned around Sorrow to see the ginger she-cat—Flint's mentor from the Claws—step forward. She was better off than the others—her pelt unmarked but dull from malnourishment—but still had an air of unkemptness about her. "Fine," Twist said. "Lucky can decide what to do with you."

Sorrow turned to the Claws. "Stay here."

They collapsed onto their bellies and haunches at once. One, an elderly old ginger tom that Twist recognized as Rowan—the cat that had nearly killed her during her time in the Claws—immediately turned to the queen with a young kit. He licked the little pale scrap; it stirred under his tongue, but only barely. Twist's heart squeezed. The Claws were one thing, but an innocent kit? It was painful to look at the poor thing.

Sorrow started after Twist with delicate but faltering steps. "Don't worry," she said after Twist looked around for the second time. "I have no intentions of disobeying. I'll do whatever you want."

Twist frowned, turning quickly so Sorrow couldn't see her expression. "Streak, you and Whisper go tell Lucky we're coming."

"Are you serious?" He swooped to her side like a hawk, his voice a hiss. "They could attack you."

Twist glanced behind her. Sorrow was walking proudly, head up, but Sparrow and Amber leaned heavily on each other.

"I don't think I'm in any danger of that," she whispered. "Go. Tell Lucky Sorrow's coming to see him."

Streak's hard yellow eyes looked into hers for a second longer. Then he dipped his head, brushing his muzzle through her fur, and was gone, Whisper at his side. They disappeared on ahead into the light drift of soggy snow that had begun to fall, soaking quickly into Twist's pelt against her skin.

"Those kits," Sorrow said, startling Twist out of her thoughts. "I recognize them."

"They're Viktor's kits."

"Ah." Sorrow nodded to herself. "They've grown now. How old are they? Eight moons? Nine?"

"Somewhere around there."

"Strong kits grow into strong warriors," Sorrow said sagely.

Twist turned to her. "What are you after, Sorrow?"

"So quick to judge." She clucked her tongue. "I'm only here for Lucky. Only he'll hear my words. Not any nosy she-cats."

"You're the one who trusted me, don't forget." Twist lowered her voice almost unconsciously, glancing behind to the other two Claws. "You wanted me to take down Lucky from the inside. I haven't forgotten that. You might have gotten away with what you did moon cycles ago but I won't forgive you for what you wanted to do. Your intentions were to kill everyone I love here. That's unforgivable."

Sorrow looked at her then and Twist thought she could look right through her. "Twist, that was a lifetime ago. The Claws are irreparably damaged. We couldn't launch an attack even if I wanted to." She lowered her head, her voice deepening. "And believe me, I don't want to."

Twist huffed, looking away. She didn't like this new Sorrow, this beat-down one with battle scars across her silky pelt. It unnerved her to see Sorrow so gentle-tongued. It was like seeing a brand new cat.

When they reached the Warren, Lucky was waiting.

And so were the Sliders.

Twist walked ahead of them to Vivian's side. She swept around without looking at Declan—who was still standing with that air-headed Dahlia, a sight that made Twist's stomach turn—to where Sorrow entered.

She was met with lines of yowls, jeers, and hisses. Her chin was high in the air, her eyes slanted down to glare at anyone who made eye contact with her. Every step was regal, refined, and completely flawless. All the weakness she had shown in the moments before entering the Warren were gone now, completely vanished, as if that had been the act the entire time.

Lucky didn't bend his head to her even when she stopped in front of him, her face downcast.

Sorrow's words were addressed to the ground: "I've come to speak with you, Lucky."

"So I have heard. I wonder what your intentions are here, Sorrow. I told you that you would never be welcome among our numbers. And yet here you are, turning up in our territory. Tell me, what are you doing this far away from Claw hunting grounds?"

"I would like to speak to you in private," Sorrow said.

"I am afraid that is an impossibility. I do not keep secrets from the Sliders. Not anymore."

Sorrow's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"You would not. Please get to the point. I would like to see you gone by sunset." He stood laxly, his head to the side in curiosity. His dark eyes, however, flickered with such a deep distrust that Twist was surprised; he usually kept such a close leash on his temper.

Then she remembered his theory, the one she wasn't supposed to hear. If Lucky still thought the Rogue was out there alive, he might think that Sorrow was hiding him somewhere.

Sorrow, still staring at the ground, took in a deep, weighty breath. "Very well," she said tersely. Her eyes locked on Lucky's. "I've come for sanctuary. The Claws are weak. We need protection."

At once, there was a surge of harsh laughter. Twist watched the Sliders, seeing the malice bristle their pelts and unsheathe their claws. They clearly would never agree to this.

Lucky's eyes had widened at her words. "What is this?" he asked slowly. "Proud, fierce Sorrow coming to beg for safety? How unbecoming of you. I thought you were a warrior, Sorrow."

"I am," she snarled, the action breaking the scab across her eye and sending a gentle rivulet of blood down her cheek and across her mouth. "But I know when to back down. I understand when I'm beaten. The Claws are finished. We need to join with you or die."

Twist couldn't help but drop her jaw in shock. _Sorrow wants the Claws to become Sliders?_

"Finished?" And now Viktor stepped forward. Twist saw Streak, who was standing a few cats down from her next to Whisper and his littermates, stand a little taller at the sight of his father. "What do you mean?"

Sorrow's head was at full height now. Her pale eye glittered in the bright sunlight as she glanced around nobly. "We've met with some…misfortune."

Another round of jeers rose up. "What a liar!" someone yowled.

"Look at her standing there! She just wants to kill us all!"

"She's just like her father! A monster just like the Rogue!"

Sorrow didn't even flinch. "Lucky, I'm begging you," she said. "Please. Please help us. We're dying. Ever since that killer's been—"

Lucky flinched as if a bee had stung him, recoiling sharply away from Sorrow as if she'd gone at him with unsheathed claws.

Viktor's single yellow eye went so wide Twist half-thought it would pop right out of his head. "What did you just say?"

Sorrow's brow contracted over her eyes now, speculatively. "A killer. Someone has been picking us off like rats. Already, half of our numbers are gone—murdered or fled for their lives. The only ones left are the ones who were lucky enough to escape. We left our territory but it didn't stop. The killings kept up." Then her voice lowered. "Lucky, we have nowhere to go. If you banish us now, we're as good as dead. Please. If not for the sake of my cats' lives, then for the shared blood we have."

"Shared blood!" River yowled from Willow's side. "Shared blood! The same blood you wanted to spill six moon cycles ago, is that right? Calling on kin when you were so keen to send him the way of your fallen comrades! That seems fair, doesn't it?"

"Things have changed now," Sorrow snapped, her thin temper flaring up like a burst of lightning.

"Yes," Gravel snarled. "Now you're on the receiving end of the killings. How does it feel, Sorrow? One morning you wake up and everyone you know is still there and then the next minute, someone is gone forever. How do you like it?"

Sorrow's eyes were narrowed venomously. Behind her, Amber and Sparrow clustered closer to her. Amber looked clearly petrified, her eyes searching through the crowd for a friendly face. Sparrow was on guard, his stance protective as he leaned towards Sorrow. Now, she was the only family he had left, Twist knew. Even though their differences were overwhelming, he was still going to try and save her.

Sorrow ignored the snarls and hisses sent her way. "Lucky," she said. "I will beg for your forgiveness if that's required. My cats are dying. This is the only way we can survive. We must stand together to face this threat. The Claws and the Sliders can work as one to get rid of this threat. I know these woods—the killer could be hiding out there. I can help you. Please."

"Viktor, what do you think?" Lucky said, turning to the gray tabby.

Viktor's eye wandered over Sorrow, to Sparrow and Amber behind her. Then, with a lithe step, he padded up to Sorrow, nose-to-nose with her; Sorrow recoiled just slightly, her lip wrinkling, as Viktor slowed to a stop. His gaze searching hers, he said, "You stole my mother away from me. You knew she was dying and worked her to the bone anyway. You lead a group of cats to my home, to where my mate and kits lived, and tried to exterminate us like rats. I have no pity for you. I don't have anything but contempt for you and your group. I say we turn you out into the cold. You don't deserve our forgiveness after what you've done to us."

Sorrow's eyes were just slits now. As Viktor returned to his spot by Lucky's side, she swallowed hard, her unsheathed claws gripping the ground. But when she spoke, her voice was even. "Is that it, then?"

Lucky turned to the other side. "Gravel? River? What about you, Lightfoot?"

Gravel said nothing, only glared at Sorrow with hatred. River turned his head sharply away, his fur rising.

Only Lightfoot padded forward, her black-and-white fur smooth and even as if she was out for a simple walk. She stopped in front of Sorrow, head to the side. "You know," she said. "For a moment, I believed you could be a good leader. Your cats liked and followed you. The workers didn't die under your command. When I was in the Claws' camp, I saw you for the first time. You were deciding which cats you wanted for your guard. You told your father to pick me and smoke-treat me. You allowed everything that I had to be stolen from me. You stood by and watched my friend Beck be killed beneath your guards' claws when he tried to protect himself. You would rather watch and plan from the sidelines, like a coward, than get your claws dirty. Whether you stay here or not is up to Lucky." Then she bared her fangs. "But let me tell you something, Sorrow. If you stay, you're taking your life into your own paws. Because I don't pity you. Because I don't think you deserve forgiveness. I think you deserve to die, painfully and alone, just like Beck did. If you decide to remain in the Warren, you won't have to worry about the murderer: I'll rip you apart long before the killer even catches your scent." She turned and slid back into her spot without another word.

Twist's eyes half-slid towards Declan—she wanted to see what his face looked like in this moment—then away again. Her fur prickled as she imagined him bending close to whisper something in Dahlia's ear.

Vivian, despite not knowing the circumstances, leaned into Twist's shoulder comfortingly. "Twist, what do you think?" she whispered.

"About Sorrow?" Twist was silent for a moment. She watched as Slider after Slider gave their vote to Lucky, some speaking about how the Claws had hurt them personally and some letting their expressions do the talking. Sorrow stood and took it, her head still high. But there was no hiding the trembling in her legs, the tightness in her throat, the way that her uninjured eye kept returning to Lucky. She might have been too proud to admit defeat but now the fear that she might truly be alone was dawning on her.

Sorrow was afraid.

The votes got down to Twist's side, a slow inexorable force. What was she going to say?

Streak and Whisper voiced sharp opinions and for a moment, Twist was grateful for their youth: they didn't have to live through the horror of the Claws' attacks.

Max and Marco both voted no, too—Marco being more highly outspoken than Max, despite Max's heavy injuries from the Claws. Even now, Twist could see the lacing pink-gray scars around his head and face, cutting through his lip and curling up his muzzle, his missing ear, the triple line of slashes across his throat. They'd nearly killed him.

So when the vote reached Twist—after a tentative and flushed "no" from Vivian—Twist, envisioning Max's poor face, said, "Absolutely not. The Claws have no place here."

Twist looked up, intending to glare at Sorrow, to prove that she was the stronger one this time, but her eyes—as always—drifted to Declan. He was staring openly at her, disappointment in his very green eyes.

And all at once, Twist felt ashamed even though she shouldn't have. She tore her eyes from his with significant effort and glared at the ground as the vote continued, seething at Declan's nerve. He didn't know what they'd done to her. He didn't understand that the Claws never would deserve forgiveness. They'd spent seasons stealing cats from the Sliders—keeping the ones with marked eyes and disposing of the rest—and then smoke treated them so badly they couldn't remember who they were.

They'd done it to dozens of cats. Over and over again. A vicious cycle of memory and loss.

They'd done it to Declan, warping him into whatever he was now. Mistrustful of her, full of secrets, leaning to other cats for help instead of her. Keeping himself hidden away from her. Blocking her out.

And Twist would never forgive Sorrow or any other Claw for that.

She would allow herself to keep this loathing, this revenge, bottled up inside her, simmering just under the surface. Sorrow had tried to kill her, Lucky, Declan, and everyone else she cared about. If hating them forever made Twist a horrible cat, then she could accept that.

She would never let go of this hatred.

Kent, Ren, and Pip voted next, then Iggy, then Kaltag—who couldn't even look Sorrow, his former leader, in the eye—and then it had reached Flint.

"No," he said, his eyes on Amber. "You're wrong, Lucky. They need us. We need them. Imagine the kind of knowledge they could teach us!"

"They killed your family, Flint." Viktor's voice was full of derision. "What about your foster mother? What about Lilac? She died so you and Max could live!"

Max, looking across the empty space, watched Flint with a kind of muted horror.

Flint didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I understand that. But they need us. Lucky, I'm voting for them to stay."

To Twist's fury, Dahlia spoke up. "I don't understand," she said, her sweet, simpering voice full of confusion. "These cats need help. Look how skinny they are! We should allow them in. I don't see why they can't be Sliders, too."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Twist wondered if they were truly thinking along Dahlia's line of persuasion or if they were just dumbstruck by her stupidity.

But before Twist could even say anything, Lightfoot spoke up. "Are you _insane_? Haven't you been _listening_? I understand that you're a pet, but I mean, _stars, _are they all as dunderheaded as you?" She scoffed then, viciously, her head tossing, and added, "Let me fill you in, since you obviously have the mental capacity of a rock. These cats, the ones standing here that make your pretty little heart positively_squeeze _with saccharine pity, have been trying to kill us for _seasons._ Their former leader spent his _life _trying to end Lucky's. And now just because they come here with a new sob story, you think we should welcome them as if we're friends? Let me tell you straight, sweetie: we're not friends. We're bitter, mortal enemies. And I'd rather swallow poison than ever be in the same living space as them."

Twist, in one moment of vicious pleasure, thought she'd never liked Lightfoot more.

Her happiness shattered the next moment when Declan leapt to Dahlia's defense. "She doesn't understand. She's new here, remember? She doesn't know how we operate here."

"Then she should open her ears instead of relying on her pretty face," Lightfoot spat. "I somehow manage to be simultaneously beautiful and intelligent. I'm sure it's more than possibly for _her._"

"Lightfoot," Lucky warned.

She fell silent, though her fur still bristled.

"Declan, it is your turn to vote. What do you think?"

He turned to Sorrow. "I think we should give them a chance. All cats deserve a second chance." He turned and locked eyes with Twist at the end of his statement, and his searching gaze said, _Right, Twist?_

Lucky nodded, not saying anything, and turned politely to the next cat.

The votes continued but all Twist could think was what a traitor Declan was. He clearly didn't care that these cats had nearly killed him and her both. He must not care at all about the fact murderers could be living within the same territory as them.

After Flint and Declan's votes for the Claws staying, a few more cats changed their minds. Kite, despite her fighting during the battle, voted for the Claws to stay, too.

"I agree with Declan. Even these cats deserve a second chance." Her eyes were pitying as they focused on Amber. Twist wondered if her opinion would have been even stronger if she had seen that pale, starving kit.

Finally, it was over.

Lucky stood there, nodding to himself for a moment, before saying, "Now that I have heard the opinions of all of you, I must make a decision. It is true that we have been enemies for so long, but I believe—"

"Oh, you can't be—" River was silenced by Gravel beside him.

"I believe," Lucky continued placidly, "that by working together, we will have a better chance to fight against this threat." He turned to Sorrow then, whose expression had change to a carefully-guarded hope. "If you show a single trace of deceit, Sorrow—"

"I won't. I promise." She bent her head. "Thank you, Lucky. I swear, I will repay this."

Lightfoot snarled savagely, whipping to face Lucky, after he'd ordered an escort to follow Sorrow back to the rest of the Claws. "Are you insane?" she hissed. "Sorrow was the Rogue's second-in-command! How do you know she's not still working his plans? How do you know she's not the killer?"

Lucky watched Sorrow walk out of the Warren, flanked by nearly a dozen Sliders—including Declan, Twist noticed with a bitter curl in her belly—before saying, "I do not believe she is the killer."

"Then why would you do this, Lucky?" Gravel asked, confused. "I can't understand your reasoning."

"You simply have to decide whether or not you trust me, Gravel. I promise I have no ill intentions. Everything will happen as it will happen."

"That's a fool's answer!" Lightfoot snarled. "Come on, Lucky, you can do better than that!"

"I have told you what we are doing. Accept it or rise against me." He stood straight, his tail in the air, his eyes glinting darkly.

Lightfoot, after a tense moment of glaring, backed down. "I'll go along with it," she growled. "But you're going to owe me for this, Lucky."

"Of course. You will be the main guard for Sorrow. If anything happens, if she says or does anything to warrant suspicion, you may act as you see fit. That does not mean you attack simply because she looks at you funny, however."

"Fine," Lightfoot snorted, turning her head sharply away.

"Lucky, how can you do this to us?" Viktor snarled. "She's his kit! She has the same blood as him!"

"As do I," Lucky reminded him patiently. "I believe that Sorrow is a good cat at heart."

"At heart?" And now Twist couldn't help herself. "Lucky, she watched as her father torture and killed dozens of Sliders."

Without looking at her, Lucky said, "Twist, that was before your time."

"And that somehow makes it alright? She's just as bad as the Rogue!"

Then Lucky swung his head down to look at her, and she was startled to see the malice in his normally cool black eyes; it sent a shiver of the old shadow fear down her spine. "Some," he said, his voice so soft only she could hear it, "could say the same about you, Twist."

It was as bad as if he'd struck her. She gaped at him, open-mouthed, as he turned away, her blood turning to ice in her veins. She felt as if she might be sick.

How could he say that to her? Him, of all cats! He had the evil brother, not her! It wasn't her fault that Braiser had been her father!

Then all at once, she remembered Declan's expression. That sad disappointment. Shame swept through her in a hot cloud but she couldn't bring herself to forgive Sorrow. She didn't want to. She had forgiven Sparrow for his role in her mother's escape but Sorrow…she was another being entirely. She had plotted for Twist to betray the Sliders. She'd used her.

_And you used her, too, _her mind reminded her in a whisper.

Twist bared her teeth at herself, shame and fury in equal parts running through her.

Lucky was saying, "Are we all agreed? We need them. They clearly have more experience with the killer. They can help us catch him."

"Him?" Lightfoot echoed. "Not her?"

Lucky didn't flinch at all but Twist's suspicions redoubled. Did he really think keeping Sorrow close would help him find out if his brother really was still alive? "A simple assumption," he said lightly. "A male seems more highly capable of murder than a she-cat. Though there are exceptions." He looked at her pointedly.

Lightfoot rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She stalked away and Twist, with a moment of hesitation, followed after her. Lightfoot blinked. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to you. It's about the Claws."

She snorted. "Yes, I saw that your mate agreed to let them stay. Though it makes me wonder if it was only because who had spoken up first."

_So others suspect Dahlia, too, _Twist thought, her heart kicked in her chest. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly, trying to cover it up.

"He's awful friendly with her, isn't he? More than the other toms. I saw Gravel ogling over her but not as bad as Declan. Is he still loyal to you, I wonder?"

Twist bared her teeth. "You're only saying that because you're still mad."

"You're right." She turned in one sweeping movement, her vivid green eyes sharp as thorns. "I am mad. Beyond furious, actually. I can't believe that Lucky has allowed this. And half the Sliders went along with it!"

"You think the Claws will try something?"

Lightfoot narrowed her eyes to slits. "They have bad blood, the lot of them. I can tell. Sorrow won't be content to sit around and become something she hates. I know. I've been in the same situation." Then her voice lowered and she added, "If I were her, I'd try to rebel. It wouldn't matter. The Claws are almost gone anyway, if she's even telling the truth. What does she have to lose? And, Twist? Cats with nothing to lose are the most dangerous kind." Then she turned and swept away, her head beneath her shoulders.

Twist watched her go, feeling a sort of yawning deepness open up in her. And she prayed with all her heart that it wasn't true.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twist lay on her side in her den, alone, staring at the box's wall. It was dark, moonlight spilling in around her curled body. Her tail flicked up under her chin, brushing against her mouth, as she thought.

The Claws had been settled into a far corner of the Warren—the only one that was clear enough for cats to sleep in. They'd been given prey and they'd fallen upon it as if they hadn't had a real meal in ages. Even that single little kit—the pale, pale gold one—had eaten until his little belly was round in a way that made Twist feel the tiniest squeeze of pity.

Before she forced it down again. Even a Claw kit was an enemy. She would allow no fond thoughts of them.

Sorrow had thanked Lucky endlessly, again and again, but Twist still didn't buy it. Lightfoot's words rang in her head in an endless loop, and with each echo, Twist's suspicion grew. She didn't want them here. If the killer had been picking off Claws, the worst thing for the Sliders would be for the Claws to be in the Warren. They'd draw in the killer like a moth to a flame.

Though, Twist thought, that could be Lucky's intention.

Deep in thought, Twist didn't even notice Declan come in until his paws made the box shift a little. She didn't turn around even as his scent filled the den, damp with the light rain that had fallen, curled with a hint of grass. He'd been gone fetching nest material for the Claws—one of the very few who had volunteered. Another inhale told Twist that he'd been aided by Dahlia; the she-cat's scent clung to Declan's thick fur like clogging mist; Twist fought the urge to wrinkle her nose and force the smell from her nostrils.

Declan just stood there, not laying down. Not yet. He wanted to say something. Twist could tell just as easily as if he'd yowled it. "Twist."

His voice was unendingly gentle. Just like it always was when he spoke to her.

Twist turned her head a little more, her cheek pressing against the floor of the den. "What do you want?"

"I want you to look at me."

Twist curled tighter into a ball. "No."

Declan sighed lightly. "Why must you be so difficult?"

Twist narrowed her eyes. "I'm not—"

Declan's paw reached around to her side—the one pressed against the ground—and he turned her towards him. Twist's breath hitched in her throat as he looked down into her eyes. He was sitting but with his paw, he held most of her weight easily, bracing himself with his other paw. His neck arched down to her, putting his face barely a mouse-length from her own; his whiskers brushed against hers.

Those green eyes were so soft. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Twist couldn't look away. She was trapped, mesmerized. Captivated.

He sunk a little lower until he was half-laying down, drawing her close to him, into his thick white chest fur. His chin rested on top of her head as he went on. "I hate this. I hate it when you don't talk to me."

"You won't talk to me. You're keeping secrets. We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other." Twist hated how kittish she sounded.

Declan turned his face so that his cheek was pressed against the top of her head. "I don't keep secrets from you, Twist." But it was a lie and she could tell.

"If this is about your dreams, I—"

"Twist, please don't. I don't want to talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Just trust me."

Twist pulled away from him, pushing him away with extended forepaws. Breathing heavily past the pain that clutched her chest, she whispered, "How can I trust you if you don't tell me what's going on with you? I'm…I'm worried about you."

Declan looked hurt. "That was never my intention."

"I can't even guess at your intentions anymore."

"What?" Declan was on his paws in a flash, stepping up close to her. "What do you mean? Twist, what do you mean?"

Twist turned her eyes down, not wanting to see the confusion and pain in his eyes. "I can't talk to you right now."

"No," he said firmly. "No, we have to talk about this."

"No, there's no point in talking, Declan."

"What are you saying? Twist, this isn't like you. If this is about Dahlia—"

And suddenly, Twist didn't want to be there. She stood quickly. "I…I can't do this."

"Twist, don't—Twist! Twist, come back!"

She stopped at the mouth of the den, her breath caught in her chest.

Declan stood inside, the moonlight playing around his ears, glinting along his whiskers. "Don't go," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry. Please don't go. I…I don't mean to be like this. I just… _Stars, _I just can't, Twist. I don't want you to judge me."

"I wouldn't judge you," Twist said. "Not ever."

Declan closed his eyes.

"But you won't tell me, will you?" she asked, and to her credit, her voice did not tremble, even though it felt like her heart was being crushed in her chest.

Declan just looked at her, stunned, as if he'd been frozen to ice. "I love you," he said, his voice low and shaky. "I don't deserve to love you but I do. I love you, Twist."

She turned away, the pain in her chest intensifying. This was unbearable. She hated to hear him sound like this, hating that it was her fault, hating that he had equal blame in this. Her heart was breaking apart, and the pain was so sharp she could hardly breathe.

She moved to the outside of the den, not looking back, not even as he said, his voice breaking, "Twist, don't go. I'll do…anything. You mean everything to me, Twist. I'll do better, I promise. Just give me another chance. Just one more chance!"

Twist, the coward she was, couldn't look him in the eye. "I love you, too, Declan." Then she kept walking, leaving him behind in the den alone.

* * *

><p><strong>"OH MY GOD, SHADOW, <em>WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?"<em>**

**Is that what you're thinking? Kukukuku~ Silly reader - you couldn't have expected them to live happily ever after, could you?**

**This is MY story we're talking about! There aren't any fairy-tale happy endings here! XD**

**On a sidenote, I just used my proof copy certificate from Amazon's writing contest ABNA - in which I got down to the last 5,000 out of 50,000 but did not win (last year I got down to the final 1,000 and Fwirl got even further) - and got me a shiny, shiny copy of SIDESTEP! Now it exists in real life and it sits on my shelf like a real book and I can read it and marvel over it. I used my NaNoWriMo ticket to buy a copy of aaaaaaaaaall three in my S Trilogy and that sucker turned out to be like dictionary-sized. Sidestep is only like 520 pages or something.**

**Maybe I'll put it as my profile picture so you guys can marvel at it, too.**

**If I ever get tired of seeing pony-me.**

**Which, let's face it, isn't likely to happen soon.**

**XD**

**You know what to do!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	7. Everything and Nothing

**So, uh, I kind of accidentally deleted this chapter while fixing it, so I lost...all my ANs. XD Sorry!**

**I had to go through and delete all the quotes, but I wouldn't want to waste such a good time for a quote for my less-constructive readers. ;)**

**"Thou unfit for any place but hell."**

**_Richard III, _Act 1, Scene 2**

* * *

><p>"Twist! Twist, <em>come back<em>!" Declan called but she didn't even look, didn't even turn around, not once. He gritted his teeth, his eyes half-squinted, and then he fell backwards onto his back, his tail brushing up. His paws hooked over his muzzle, hiding his eyes, and he growled to himself, _"Stupid! _Why would you say that to her?"

He felt like a moron. Of course he should have told her about his nightmares. Of course.

But why hadn't he?

All the while she had been talking, Declan hadn't been able to bring himself to say it. It must have been because of his cowardice, he thought harshly. He obviously wasn't a real tom. He was a mouse. A tiny, puny, disgusting little vermin. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth to the cat he loved more than everything else combined.

"Stupid," he said again, softly, not moving his paws. His face pressed into his forepaws, he kept still for a moment, his heart beating so loudly that whoever slept next door surely must have heard it.

The nightmares swarmed onto him like ants, burrowing into his pelt, into his mind, twisting his thoughts into something they weren't. They couldn't be. He hated everything about it. He hated that Braiser still had this hold over him. He hated that he couldn't tell Twist about it, imagining the look on her face if she heard that her father still haunted him.

But mostly, he hated himself for being so weak as to have the dreams in the first place.

He didn't sleep that night. He kept himself awake, alert, all night long. He paced around the den, the space where Twist normally was. It usually just took her scent or the sound of her breathing to soothe him but now…

Now were they even together anymore?

When day finally broke, sending shafts of soft, deep red light into the den, Declan pushed himself off of where he was leaning on the wall and set about going to find her. The morning tasted like rain—a good sign for warmer weather—as he strode down the winding path from the box-nests, his nose in the air to detect any scent of Twist.

There was no sign of her throughout the Warren. For one wild moment, he remembered the last time she'd disappeared from him. She'd gone deep into the woods and gotten herself captured by the Claws—setting off the spark that had lit the fire of war. Her actions—and his both—had stirred the Claws like a swarm of angry bees. Nothing had been the same since then.

Nobody was awake yet so Declan drifted to the edge of the box-nests, his eyelids heavy with sleep. This bone-deep tiredness would be the death of him, he thought as he looked into the silent woods. If he didn't kill himself wandering into the claws of the killer, the one whom nobody thought was a myth anymore.

"You look deep in thought." He turned to see Sorrow standing at the base of the next he was perched on.

Coolly, he said, "Hello, Sorrow."

"Good morning." She leapt up beside him, her silky pelt brushing his for a split-second before he pulled away. She made a little noise of surprise.

"Don't think we're friends," Declan said, his voice trying for gentle and getting only weariness. "I stuck up for you because nobody else would."

She clicked her tongue. "Of course. I was just hoping to find a bit of conversation. My cats aren't much for talking yet." She tipped her head to the empty space where the Claws lay together, piles of mangy, lank fur with sharp bones beneath. They looked half-starved.

Declan returned his eyes to the forest. "I wouldn't be the best for that, I'm afraid."

"Yes, you do look tired. Bad dreams?"

He turned to her so quickly he almost unseated himself. "What?"

She looked surprised, and Declan immediately cursed himself for reacting so strongly. "Just wondering. What else would be keeping you up at night? Unless," she went on rather mischievously, "it's a she-cat. All not going well in the land of hearts and flowers?"

_I don't want to talk about this and especially not with you, _Declan thought. Uneasily, he said, "No, just bad dreams."

"What a terrible liar," she observed. "You'll have to do better than that to fool anybody, you know."

_I don't know about that, _he thought rather miserably. _I've been fooling Twist a long time. _"Can I ask you something?" he asked suddenly.

"Depends. Does it have to do with my father?"

Declan stared at her. "No."

She let out a little breath. "Good. I'm so tired of talking about that one." She leaned forward, a bit of something close to wistfulness crossing her face. "What did you want to know?"

"What happened to your eye?" The patch of scabbing over her eye was a crusty red-brown—a tiny, neat mark clearly not done in a very violent situation.

Sorrow blinked; even the unseeing eye twitched a little, which was a bit unnerving. "I did it myself."

Declan's jaw dropped. "Why?"

Sorrow looked uncomfortable. "It was…troublesome. It's a long story."

"I have plenty of time." He tipped his head to gesture to the sleeping Warren.

"Hmm. Your Lucky would not be very happy to know you're speaking with me."

"Then let's not tell him."

She laughed and the sound was all silver, like the wind. "That doesn't sound very loyal."

"On the contrary, I find myself very loyal."

"Okay." She turned her head, throwing the eye into deep shadow from the dawn. "You already know about the Claws? How we're almost entirely gone?"

"I figured as much by looking at your ranks."

She nodded. "The killer has been picking us off, one by one. But he's very choosy about it."

"He?" Declan said.

"Oh, it's a male. I'm sure of it. I've caught his scent before. A very dark scent, too. Like turned earth. Regardless. He's been picking off my cats like a crow. But he passes over some of us." She turned to him then, the tip of her tail coming up to her eyes. "He doesn't kill the ones with matching eyes. Only the marked ones."

Declan was shocked. "Why would he aim for the marked ones?"

"I have no clue. But out of all the Claws that are living now, only three are marked. Rowan, whom you know, Sparrow, whom I wouldn't allow a single cat to ever harm, and one of my queens, the one with the kit. You'd think he wouldn't kill the she-cats but he does." She looked away, her fur bristling. "He went for them first."

Declan shivered. "You didn't include yourself in that count."

"You're right. It's because I'm no longer marked, you see." Her tail tip tapped her wounded eye very gently. "I put out my own eye so I wouldn't be. The blue one. I'm very fond of the silver one. I had to choose between them, you know. Which one to get rid of." Her teeth bared. "My father's eyes were dark amber and blue. I didn't want to be associated with him anymore. But unfortunately, that still seems to be a persisting problem."

"What do you mean?"

Sorrow's eye flashed. "Anymore questions, Declan?" she asked, making it clear she wasn't going to answer that one.

Declan paused. "Why did you want Twist so badly?"

She scoffed. "Must we bring up the past so regularly? I just wanted to talk—I didn't want a history lesson." She leapt to the ground, her missing eye making her landing a little weak. She shuddered as she hit the ground but didn't fall, her plumy tail catching her. Without turning around, she said, "Keep hold of Twist, Declan. Keep hold of everyone you love. Because one day, they might not be there when you wake up."

"Did that happen to you? With who? Your friends?"

Sorrow's shoulders stiffened, as if she'd frozen to ice. After a lengthy pause, she said in a very soft voice, "Everybody." Then she walked away back to the dregs of the Claws, and did not look back.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Not wanting to show everyone how much he was hurting, Declan decided to just head back to his and Twist's den to wait for her. He didn't want anyone to think he was weak for running around crying for Twist like a kit. He had learned a thing or two about pride from her.

Though it didn't stop him from feeling as if his heart had been ripped out.

The emptiness of the den hit him like a physical blow. He laid down in the middle of the dark space, curling his tail around his nose. He was in Twist's spot. He could smell her scent here and even though it lacked her warmth and presence, he closed his eyes and was comforted, if only for a moment.

He wanted her. He wanted her so badly. Why couldn't she see that he couldn't tell her what was going on? Why was it so difficult to tell her everything that was wrong? To lay all his problems out by her feet and be soothed by her honest words, even if they were harsh? Twist was all he ever wanted and now, after being with her for these past moon cycles, to have that all ripped away from him…

He might as well as ripped out all of his insides and set them on display.

And for a moment, a very fleeting moment, he felt derisive of Twist. Wasn't she hurting as much as he was? Didn't she know what she meant to him? How could she just walk out on him like that? Like he didn't even matter? And where had she gone? Why wasn't she here?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Declan never felt anger—not since the war with the Claws—but now it consumed him. It filled his mind with the scent of metal, of rage, of hate—

Of smoke.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Leo didn't understand why he was in this place, this den that smelled like sharp pine sap and Sliders. He didn't like the smell at all. It smelled like the enemy. And some she-cat whose scent lingered in the back of his mind, past the scent of fire. He hated the smell.

He tossed it back behind the curtain of flames and let it burn.

Leo walked outside. It was bright here, very bright, not at all like home. Not where he could lay beneath the trees, the coolness of mud sinking into his fur, blending him into the woods perfectly, flawlessly. He'd learned how the technique worked from his mentor, Rowan.

The Sliders weren't around here for some reason. Leo stuck to the corners and shadows, bringing himself forward pawstep by pawstep. He bared his teeth at the first scent of danger—a tom's smell—but kept going. His paws were ghosting along the ground like cold season leaves.

He made it to the Warren's gate and fled into the cool shelter of the woods.

Inside, it was lovely and dark, much better, much better indeed. Leo kept going, his paws uncertain on this unfamiliar terrain. Soon, his mind told him, he'd be back on the other side of the brook. There, he'd know where to go and how to get home.

Leo kept running. It felt like it'd been forever since he ran. Actually, he thought then, he couldn't remember the last time he ran. He couldn't even remember the last time he remembered anything.

_Oh right, _he thought. _Two nights I ran in these woods. _

But why couldn't he remember the daytime?

The brook leapt up in front of him, the waters cool, placid, and gray. He skirted the edge, knowing the place where steppingstones were further upstream. He walked along, happy now to be free of that cluttering Warren. Why had he been there again? And he had smelled familiar scent there—someone's he knew. The name of that cat slipped past his brain and smoldered in the fire.

Leo hopped across the steppingstones easily. He'd done this dozens of times but for some reason, it felt like this was the first time in a long while. He shook his head, hoping to clear away the musty smokiness in his brain.

That stopped him dead. _Smoke? _The word held some sort of higher meaning that he'd forgotten. It echoed in his brain, clanging around in the silence. He even spoke it aloud to see if it would trigger anything.

But nothing happened.

_Did I injure my head? Did I do something to make me forget everything? _The fear of that almost overcame his happiness to be out in the woods. Almost.

_Come on, now. _It wasn't his voice speaking to him. _Almost home. Come to me, Leo._

It was his Master speaking to him. It had happened only once during his time as a Claw guard and that was when the Master was standing in front of him. Leo had been a little afraid of the Master, to be honest: he was a scary cat with strange legs and a crooked tail, and half of his fur had been ripped off. The other master, the lesser one with weird eyes, had told only the chosen Claw guards that the Master had fallen off a mountain but still possessed great intellect.

Leo was proud to have been one of those chosen guards. He and a black and white she-cat had been guarding the Master for a little bit together before the Master decided to only go with one guard. Leo had been sent off to Sorrow's camp then, where he'd met that weird she-cat. The tortoiseshell one. What had been her name?

_Never mind, never mind. _The Master's voice was in his head again, and all other thoughts were thrown aside. _Come to me now, Leo._

"Huh? What are you doing?"

Leo turned at the sudden voice, fear surging up into his throat.

It was a she-cat, the most beautiful she-cat that Leo had ever seen. She was pale-furred as a golden moon, with lovely tabby stripes, and golden eyes. Her white paws and belly looked as though she'd been delicately patterned with fresh snow.

"Um." Leo didn't know what to say. He was tongue-tied in this she-cat's presence.

She frowned at him, her brow furrowing over her bright eyes, but even frowning, she was stunning. "Are you okay? Did you get lost?"

"I'm not lost," he said.

"Then where are you going?"

"Home."

Now looking more confused, she put her head to the side. "But the Warren is that way?" she said, flicking her tail behind her.

Affronted, Leo said, "I don't live in the Warren! That's where the Sliders live!"

The she-cat blinked. Blinked again. "Are you feeling alright, Declan?"

Declan.

That named pierced somewhere deep in Leo's brain. He felt the pinch start behind his eyes before the headache overwhelmed him, sinking like fangs into his bones. He groaned, his vision going dark, and he fell forward into darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Declan groaned, feeling a smooth lapping sensation against the side of his head. It was overwhelmingly soothing, and Declan felt his heart rate slow down steadily as the grooming went on. _Did I faint? Where am I? _There was smooth cardboard beneath his side and the familiar scent of Twist was achingly comforting in his nose.

She had come back to him? Without opening his eyes, he said thickly, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"No need to apologize." The licking stopped as she spoke.

"No, there is." His voice sounded slurred and very distant to him. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I don't want you to hate me."

"I hardly hate you, Declan."

His brain was still stilted, as if he'd gotten knocked hard in the head. "I love you," he murmured into the ground, opening his eyes to bleary half-slits. Everything was blurry to his eyes. "I love you so much."

There was a soft, gentle purr and Declan knew right then that something was very, very wrong. When did Twist ever purr? He opened his eyes, equally horrified and humiliated to see that it wasn't Twist, but Dahlia licking his fur.

"As flattering as that is, I can't help but think it's the bump to the head talking," she teased gently. "Good afternoon, Declan."

He shot to his paws as if the ground had been struck by lightning. Immediately, he listed to the side, slamming into the wall. Reaching out with a paw to steady himself, he sank his claws into the cardboard, forcing his eyes into focus. Dahlia swam in and out of his vision as she stepped closer, her delicate scent wafting up into his nostrils.

"You should really lie down, Declan," she said.

Declan turned his face resolutely from her, taking in deep, half-wild breaths. The sight of her, so very wrong in this environment, made his pelt crawl with nervousness. "You're in my den," he said, making every word clear.

"Yes?"

"You're in my den," he said again. "Mine and Twist's den." The horror was seeping through his veins like poison.

"Yes?" she said again, the word drawn-out and slow. "I couldn't just leave you laying there like that."

"Like what?" Now he whipped to her. She was standing in the middle of the den, head to the side, looking utterly out of place here. She didn't belong here. No, not at all. She should go. Immediately. Before Twist came back and saw her here and thought…things. Declan's pelt flushed with the very thought of it. "What did I do? Where was I? Did I say anything?"

Dahlia blinked, looking a little surprised. "You…don't remember?"

Declan shook his head once, quickly, as if clearing his ears of water. "I must have…sleepwalked. I do that sometimes," he went on causally, off-hand, praying with every fiber of his being that nothing had happened. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Dahlia said, "Huh, that's weird. Well, I found you just on the side of Lucky's den. I guess you must have walked up there and fell down. You hit your head on a rock when you fell." She laughed a little. "You're lucky that I found you before anyone else did. You were quite chatty."

"What did I say?" Fear gripped Declan's heart, making his vision clearer as adrenaline pumped through his veins. "Anything?"

Then Dahlia looked very coy. "My name," she said softly.

Declan felt his heart stop. "That's impossible."

"Why's that?"

"I don't dream about you."

She looked a little hurt at that. "Why not?" she asked a little huffily. "Aren't I your friend?"

"Well, yes," he said quickly, apologetically now. "But I don't dream of any cat. No one but Twist."

"Twist," Dahlia said, lightly scoffing. "She's been moping around all day. Did you two have a falling out?"

Turning his head aside, Declan muttered, "Yeah, something like that. I was actually looking for her. Do you know where she is?"

"Probably in the healing den with that weird ginger she-cat," she said. "Flint says she needs company. I went to sit with her once but she didn't talk to me." She wrinkled her nose. "I guess she didn't like me."

"You should talk more gently to her. Sometimes, you're too straightforward."

"Am I?" Dahlia looked appalled. "I don't mean to be! I'm well-intentioned, really!"

Declan walked by her. Now that he knew where Twist was, he had to go and beg for her forgiveness. Whatever pain and guilt he'd felt about not telling her everything was nothing compared to this absence. "Go back to your own den, okay, Dahlia?"

"I'll just go with you," she said petulantly.

"I have to talk to Twist alone," he said gently. "It's important."

"Oh, I won't be a bother. Promise!" Her tail curled. "After all, I'm the one who rescued you from that head wound, remember?"

"Oh." At the mentioned of it, the pain pulsed in his head. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing it away, but it only redoubled its hold on him. Sighing, he pushed his way out of the den and followed the path down to the healing den.

Flint was on his way out as Declan went by, followed closely by Amber. "Hey," he greeted, suddenly cheerful. "How are you doing today, Declan? It's a nice day today, huh? Very warmish. Warmish, that's a word right? Warmer than usual anyway. I'm getting tired of all this cold. It's very…cold, isn't it?" Then he jumped as if someone had called him even though no one spoke a word. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I have to go now. Amber and I are going to go hunt for herbs! See you later!" He disappeared along the path with a wave of his tail.

Declan stared at him, utterly confused. Then he shook his head and eased down into the den.

It was cool and dark here, not very homey-feeling. Declan wished it was brighter down here. It would certainly feel less gloomy that way.

When they reached Audrey's den, Declan turned to Dahlia. "Just wait here."

Dahlia looked insulted. "I wanted to see Audrey, too."

"You just called her weird, though."

"I was just joking. I'm coming, too."

Declan felt a pang of weariness. "Come on, Dahlia, I have to talk to Twist in private. Can't this wait awhile?"

"No, I was the one who told you. I should go, too."

"Declan? Is that you?" Audrey's voice was very dry and weak.

Declan turned to Dahlia. "Just…stay here. Okay? It's important."

Dahlia turned her head sharply to the side with a huff.

Declan said, "Thank you," and ducked inside the den.

Audrey's belly looked huge in the half-light. She rolled her head back to look at him, her expression turning a little more cheerful; it made her face look rounded when she was happy. "You came to visit me?"

"Of course." But Declan's eyes drifted past Audrey to where Twist lay against the back wall. Her paws were tucked up under her chest and her head was to the side, her face tipped down just enough that Declan couldn't see her eyes. The white, lightning-like marks on her face looked almost gray in the smudgy light. She didn't look up at him as he lay down across from her.

Audrey drew herself up onto her front paws, shifting to the side. "You look well," she said.

"So do you. You've gained some more weight?"

"Now, Declan," she huffed teasingly. "You should never mention a she-cat's weight. Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

Declan laughed softly. "I think weight is the least of your problems these days. When are you due?"

"Not soon enough." She flopped into a sitting position. "These kits are killing me. I never thought it would be this hard. It's amazing any cat gets born at all." But her eyes softened then. "Flint says I should have about three. Three little Audreys running around. Think about that."

"I'd rather not," Declan laughed. "That's more Audreys that the world needs."

She laughed along with him but Twist remained silent. Audrey seemed to have noticed this because she suddenly got to her paws, standing sturdily even as Declan tried to help her. "I'm going to get a drink of water," she announced loudly. "No need for anyone to follow me. I can walk by myself. So you two just sit here, okay? I might be awhile." She waddled out, her tail waving, leaving Declan and Twist in stiff silence.

Declan watched Twist, waiting for her to look up, but she never did. "I'm sorry," he said.

She said nothing but her ears twitched to show she'd heard.

"I don't want you to be mad at me. I hate it."

"I'm not mad," she said.

"You sure seem mad."

She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing like the sun. "I'm not," she growled. "I'm frustrated with you."

"Why?" he asked, his throat dry. "I didn't mean to upset you. Honest. I didn't mean to make you angry at me. That's the last thing that I'd ever want."

"I don't understand you," she said.

"But you do," he said. "Better than anyone ever has. You're the only one I trust with my entire self, Twist."

"I wish I could believe that," she said softly.

"You should!" And now he stood and approached her, but when he got close she flinched away. Pretending that that didn't hurt, he said, "You can trust me, Twist. I'd never betray you. I'd die first. I would never do anything to hurt you. Not ever." _Liar, _his mind whispered. _This fire burns to hurt everybody. _

For some reason, that struck Declan for a moment before he pushed it away.

Twist stared at her paws for a moment longer before her face whipped up and her yellow eyes glared into his. "If that's the case, then why did you vote to let the Claws stay?" she spat. "You should hate them! I hate them! I hate them more than I hate anybody and I didn't want them near me! Or you, for that matter. Not after what they did to you! You should want to rip their throats out but you don't and I don't understand _why."_

Declan was stunned. Standing there, very softly, he said, "Because I'm trying very hard not to hate anyone."

Twist's eyes didn't waver. "Why?"

"Why?" he echoed. "Because I don't want…revenge. Once revenge sinks its claws into you, it never lets go. I didn't want that for me and I didn't want it for you."

"I want it," Twist growled. "Revenge. I've always wanted it. No cat hurts me and gets away with it. Nobody but—" She cut off then, and finally a burst of emotion flared across her face—a confused sort of guilt.

"Nobody but me," Declan filled in for her, now a little bit roughly. Not towards her, but towards himself. He hated himself for this. "Twist, I swear to the stars or anything else that you want me to that I will never hurt you. You're—"

"Don't!" She closed her eyes, shutting him out. "Don't say anything else. You say all those sweet words but you never show me any proof of them! How am I supposed to know I can trust you if you won't prove it? How do I know you really love me? You could just be lying to me—it could be a trick."

Declan felt like he'd just been struck. "I would never lie to you!" he said, more snappishly than he'd meant.

"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, breathlessly. "I meant, you might think you love me but you don't. It's…it's hard to explain. I've been going over and over it in my head. You might only think you love me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" And now he was panicking. Did she really think that? "Of course I love you! I tell you that I do all the time! I've never meant anything more than when I tell you I love you!"

"Then why," she asked, and now she opened her eyes to fix them on Declan, "do you look at Dahlia the way you do? Do you feel something for her?"

Declan was dumbstruck. He just stared at her, losing himself in the deepness of her yellow eyes. She stared right into his eyes, that hot, burning gaze scorching up into his like fire. It made him shiver. It felt like he was losing grip on something very precious.

Breathing quickly and shallowly, his throat feeling dry as sand, Declan said very quietly, "I…I don't know."

Twist's entire face crumpled then, and her breath caught. Her eyes fixed, wide and unwavering, on his face. "You don't know?" she whispered.

Declan opened his mouth to say more but nothing would come out. What did he feel for Dahlia? He thought she was beautiful but…did he have _feelings _for her? Could that even be possible? Since Dahlia had been in the Warren, Declan had spent time with her, showing her around and teaching her how to hunt, but had that turned into something more? Had he come to like her in a way that wasn't friendship? Now that he thought about it, he'd spent more time with her than any other cat, even Lucky.

Twist's mouth was trembling. Then it stopped. She drew herself up and Declan could almost imagine the ice spreading across her, hiding herself from him. "Well," she said, and now her voice was very deceptively even. "That about wraps this conversation up."

"Twist, don't—"

"It's fine, Declan," she said briskly, standing quickly. "I just wanted to know. Thank you for being so honest with me."

"Twist, I—"

"I just thought you should know I'll be sleeping here with Audrey. She needs some time readjusting to Slider life. And then when her kits come, she'll need someone to watch over them. I've always liked kits. Hers will be especially cute, I think."

Declan stood in front of her, making her jolt out of her monologue. Lowering his head to meet her eyes, the ones now hidden behind a cloud of protection thicker than stone, he said weakly, "Don't do this. I…I don't have any feelings for Dahlia. It's just… Oh, Twist, I'm so confused." The dreams, the emotions, the hurt, and above all, his head, were aching in him, shaking him to pieces. He just wanted to bury his muzzle in Twist's fur and let her scent carry away all his worries but he couldn't. Not when she had such distance in her eyes.

"I know," she said quietly. "And you can have all the time you need to figure it out. Take your time, really. No rush."

She brushed past him but he stepped back to stop her again. She turned to face him, shaky anger coming across her face, and he said, before she could make him stop, "I can't love anyone besides you, Twist. I told you before and I meant it: I belong to you. Whether you want me or not is up to you. But I can't be with any other she-cat. Not Dahlia. Not anyone. They're not you. You're the only one I've ever loved."

Twist watched him levelly. "Thank you," she said, then she turned around and left.

Declan watched her go, the pain in his chest intensifying until it felt like his heart was cloaked in thorns. He gasped with the agony of it.

There were pawsteps at the mouth of the den and Declan looked up hopefully, wishing with everything he had for Twist, but it wasn't her. It was Dahlia.

"Declan," she said, her voice full of wild panic. "Audrey's kitting."

* * *

><p><strong>Um. Something should go here, because I deleted the other good stuff. So...<strong>

**Pretzels + Nutella = Delicious.**

**: D**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	8. Freedom and Entrapment

**Hey hey! So I got all my homework done yesterday and decided to write this chapter, only to realize that left me almost no time to read eight cantos of _The Inferno. _So this was kind of a short chapter. Sorry! ^.^**

**Tangleflame - Heehee! Maaaaaaybe~ ;)**

**Icestar0921 - I have a joke for you, too. Is Twist twisted? LOLOLOLOL Sorry, I'm not that good at jokes this early in the morning. XD**

**Rapidfeather - I'm glad you like Lightfoot! She's a heck of a fun character to write about. XD**

**Queen of the Pens - Twist is young. We're all obtuse sometimes. XD Hoo~ That is a good theory. 'Course I'm not gonna say anything about it. : D**

**SoccerGeek7699 - Hee! You think Dahlia is lying also? Curious, very curious~ Well, "mostly" is much better than never! XD**

**theDiabolical - Oh, darn. I hate it when school gets in the way of reading. D:**

**The Moons Feather - Belk! That's the name of a store near my house! I have a stuffed dog named Eather, which I guess is just Heather without the H. XD**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Derisive means like scornful. I love the look of that word so I used it all the time~**

**Ravenshade - Hee! I am pleased. X3 I know, but he's a stupid boy. Stupid boys are stupid sometimes. XD SuShSa looks like sushi! Tasty, tasty sushi. X3**

**kitty cat - Thanks! YOU'RE awesome, too, new reviewer! XD**

**Crowstorm - Haha, you're like the only one who doesn't want her dead immediately. Veeeeery interesting~ ;)**

**LegendaryHero - Okay, so I've thought a lot about how I was going to reply to your review - and honestly your past couple - and have decided to go with your forte: highly-opinionated "honesty." I don't know if you use the same style when reviewing others or if you just review this story or if you write your own, but your reviews are about as nutritious to a writer as cardboard. But that would be insulting to cardboard because at least you can do _something _with it. Your statements are mostly unhelpful complaints, you never cite a direct source, and most of it is just echoing back what's already been said. Maybe you haven't ever learned how to do a good critique before because no one's ever pointed this out to you - I dunno. The point is, if you're going to con-crit me, you're missing out on the most important part of the word: con = constructive. You're doing nothing constructive in your reviews, just whining, and that makes it entirely unpleasant to write and have to expect half a page of complaints. I'd prefer it if you just left but I can't do that because I do appreciate your reviews - no matter what is contained in it - but if you stay, please change your style. I'm not asking you to be cheery-positive-whatever; if you feel there's something off, please draw my attention to it. But your constant negative parade has to end. When I get published, I'm going to have to deal with hecklers, but I don't have to now - now when writing is still supposed to be fun. Thanks for the review!**

**monkeyCsaw - I was thinking of a PoV for Lightfoot, too. I'm so glad I brought her up to be a secondary character. X3**

**Icestar0921 - Wait...didn't you already review? XD But your story does sound interesting!**

**Squirrelheart - Haha, it's okay. As long as you still like it, I'll be happy. X3**

**Leafwing-Jayfeather Lover - I dunno; Declan might accept snuggling. XD Hee! Comparison to Prin Pardus~ Maybe I'll be as well-known here as her and have as many reviews! XD**

**artemis7337 - Haha, not a problem! Questions are really the best kind of reviews, really. It means that you're still curious about how it's going! ^.^ But, man, there seems to be a lot of conflict in my story already, doesn't there? XD**

**Okay. That was a lot of reviews. It takes so long to do these replies. D: Do you guys want me to keep doing them or can I stop? XD**

**And our song for this chaptaaaaah: ****"Home" - Michael Buble**

**"I shall cut out your tongue."**

**"'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much wit as thou afterwards."**

****_Troilus and Cressida, _Act 2, Scene 1****

* * *

><p>"Kitting!" Declan echoed, his heart stopping in his chest. "Like, right now?"<p>

"Yes! Right now!" Dahlia turned and vanished back up the tunnel. Declan watched her go for a moment, listening for the pounding of his heart, before following her.

Audrey was on the ground by the water-shell, curled into a ball. Her eyes, wheeling and glazed with pain, locked on Twist's, who was laying close to her. "I think it's time," she panted.

Twist whispered, "You need Flint here." She turned to face them, the blankness vanishing from her eyes for a moment. Without even looking at Dahlia, she said, "We need help. Fetch Flint."

Declan couldn't take his eyes off of Audrey as she groaned with pain. "She's really kitting?" he asked again, stupidly, his mind going in circles.

Dahlia padded closer to Audrey, a paw half-extended. "We should get you into the den again," she said, her eyes flicking to where the ratty Claw queen with the kit poked her head out of the opposite side, filmy eyes curious. "This is a private matter."

"Didn't you hear me? We need Flint!" Twist, in a moment of clearness, stepped closer to Declan. "Fetch Flint," she said again, making her voice very succinct. "Please."

Declan tore his eyes from Audrey's to face her. In that moment, her eyes were calm and level again, any emotion forced to the back of her mind. But he could see the panic building behind her eyes, dancing there like sparks. She was afraid.

"Of course," he said, backing up.

Dahlia said, "Oh, I'll come with you, Declan."

Twist turned immediately around then, so quickly she almost unbalanced herself. Her back was tight, her shoulders hunched over. She couldn't hide that much from him.

Declan, watching her, said, "You should stay here and help. This is a she-cat thing."

"Oh, they have that other queen," she said dismissively. "I'd rather be with you."

Declan didn't have time to waste arguing with her. Casting one last glance at Twist, he dove up the tunnel, into the Warren, through the paths of spiraling box-nests, and out the gate into the forest.

Flint's scent was very obvious in the path here, even with Declan's less-than-impressive tracking abilities. He hunted along the trail, nose to the ground, with Dahlia close behind him.

Unlike him, she seemed to be almost…enjoying herself. Her head was high in the air, her delicate pink nose sniffing but halfheartedly. She ran lightly on her paws, as if her body was made of spider-silk.

She noticed him watching her and mischief came into her eyes. "Like what you see, Declan?" she teased.

Declan just stared at her. Something flicked in the back of his mind, a flash of pale pelt and the hushed voice of the brook, but it was gone the next instant. For some reason, Dahlia was confusing him even more than usual. _Maybe it's just the bump on the head, _he thought, feeling the sting of the open wound there, still trickling a bit of blood down the side of his face. Twist hadn't noticed, he realized. Did that mean she didn't care?

_Absolutely not, _Declan thought firmly. Whatever Twist thought now, she hadn't stopped caring for him. Even if he hadn't known why she was so angry before, there was nothing that would have stopped her from worrying for him. Even if she didn't want to define their relationship as mates, they were still far, far closer than friends: she couldn't hide her concern for him.

Flint and Amber were pawing through a tangle of thick grass when Declan sprang upon them, leaping up and over a clump of dead brambles to land in between them.

"By the stars!" Flint jumped violently, dropping his mouthful of plants. "Declan, what's gotten into—"

"Audrey's kitting," Declan panted. "Right now."

Flint's eyes widened. "Rather early for that," he muttered.

"An early birth won't be good on the kits," Amber said softly. Declan had never really paid any attention to the ginger tabby before but now he could see how ragged she was. Barely skin and bones. She was just as ratty and unkempt as her gangmates, if only softer-spoken and gentler. Though infinitely kinder than Sorrow, even in the silver she-cat's newfound depression.

They raced back to the Warren, ducking inside the healing den. Flint stopped Declan and Dahlia at the entryway. "Friends and she-cats only," he said.

"What does that make you?" Dahlia asked cheekily.

Flint looked annoyed. "The healer of the Sliders," he said tersely. Then he turned and disappeared down into the darkness, from which Declan could smell the scent of blood.

He thought he might be sick.

"Declan?" Dahlia sounded concerned. She stepped closer to him, entirely too close, and asked, "Are you feeling alright? You look ill."

Declan shook his head. Panic was fluttery beneath his pelt. He'd never been around a kitting she-cat before. Was it as horrible as it sounded? He could hear Audrey yowling somewhere deep within the den, no doubt crowded with cats worrying over her. Was she expecting him to be there, too? After all he was Audrey's friend. Surely she didn't expect him there. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to see her hurting like that, no matter what the cost.

Willow, passing by quickly, noticed him. She strode up and flicked him affectionately across the cheek. "Calm down, Declan," she said. "You're acting like a new father. She'll be fine. She's not the first cat to ever have kits, you know."

"You had kits, didn't you, Willow?" He sounded a lot more desperate than he wanted to; he didn't want cats to think he was freaking out.

Willow purred. "I did. Now fine additions to the group, I might say."

"How did it work?"

Willow gave him a sardonic look. "Now now, Declan. I don't have to explain _that _to you, do I?"

Embarrassed, Declan stammered, "Not _that. _I meant—you know. It all worked out fine, didn't it?"

Willow laughed openly now. "Of course. Don't worry, Declan. Everything will be fine." Her eyes shifted to where Dahlia was standing, looking off into the distance, and her brow contracted. "Declan, might I have a word?"

"Of course." He turned to Dahlia. "Sorry. I have to talk to Willow."

"I thought we could go hunt," Dahlia said sadly, looking disappointed.

"Sorry. Maybe later."

"I could wait for you," Dahlia said hopefully. Her eyes were shining. "We could go afterwards."

Declan sighed. "Okay. I'll come find you, okay?"

"See you later!" She left with a cheery wave of her tail and Declan turned back to Willow, feeling a little better.

Willow gave him a meaningful look.

"What?" he asked, feeling suddenly ashamed even though he didn't know why.

"Declan, what are you doing with that she-cat? It's not my place to pry, but you and Twist are my gangmates. I've noticed a few things lately and…" She trailed off, biting her lip. "I just hope you know what you're doing," she finished.

Declan was confused. "What do you mean?"

Willow sighed heavily, raising her eyes to the sky. When she looked back down at him, there was a hardness in her green eyes that wasn't there before. "Declan, may I speak plainly?"

"Y-yes. Please do."

"It's not right what you're doing with Dahlia. It's not fair to Twist."

"Twist! What does she have to do with this?"

Willow just stared at him. "Are you…are you serious? Declan, don't you know how this _looks?_"

_How it looks? _"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Oh, come on. You can't really be that thick." He felt stung but Willow went on. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. But, Declan…Twist is your mate, isn't she?"

Declan felt a squirm of discomfort. "I… I mean, y-yes, I suppose that's what she is to me." The words sounded wrong, all wrong, as if they weren't even his own. _I suppose, _he thought viciously. _I suppose what, Declan? Are you so stupid? Why didn't you full on tell her what Twist is to you?_

Willow said, "Then you must understand how she feels, seeing you with another she-cat like this."

"Dahlia is just my friend," Declan said slowly, realization dawning on him. _Oh, stars, _he thought wildly. _Twist doesn't think that I'm… Me and Dahlia, we're—_

"It certainly doesn't look like that to outside eyes." Willow sighed then, brushing his shoulder with her tail tip. "Declan, I'm saying this because I care for you: stop spending so much time with her. She is not a Slider. She is not like us. She's a pet. A clever, conniving one, I'd imagine. You need to stay away from her. You shouldn't trust her so readily."

Willow had a point but she was taking it too far. Declan stepped sharply away from her, seeing the sting of hurt across her face and hating himself for causing it.

"Whatever prejudice you have against Dahlia has nothing to do with me," he said bitingly. "You should keep your nose in your own business, Willow, and out of mine!"

The hurt on Willow's face sharpened into distress. "Declan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Save it, Willow. I don't want to hear it." He turned on heel and strode away without a backwards glance. Anger was burning in the back of his mind, smoldering smoothly. Controlled.

Or rather, controlled yet.

Dahlia was standing by the Warren's gate waiting for him. Declan couldn't help reliving Willow's words, over and over again in his head.

_Stay away from her._ _This is wrong. She is not Twist._

Declan stopped in front of her, admiring the bright gleam of gold in her eyes. "So," he said. "Let's go hunting."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They brought in pair of rabbits and a plump dove, big enough to feed at least two cats. Declan carried the rabbits and Dahlia the dove. She held it delicately between her teeth as they stopped in a sunny circle of grass, hidden from view by thick trees. She set the dove down on the ground and turned to him, eyes shining.

"Thank you for hunting with me," she said sweetly.

Declan dropped the rabbits, jaw aching. "I haven't hunted so well in a long time," he purred.

"It must have just been my presence." She laughed, the sound like leaping water.

Declan laughed with her, feeling light. This was the perfect place, he thought. Nice and sunlit. The ground felt warm as the hot-season as they sprawled on the ground together, yawning and stretching in the light.

"Want to share the dove?" Dahlia asked.

That struck strangely with Declan for some reason. "We should bring it back to Lucky," he said slowly. "He's been skipping meals to feed the Claws."

And it was true. He'd seen Lucky lie about it right in front of Rowan, Declan's old mentor from the Claws. Lucky had caught him and made him swear not to tell but for some reason, the information fell easily from Declan's tongue. Something was very trustworthy about Dahlia, something soft. Soft as the dove's feathers as Declan plucked them so they could eat.

They shared the meal together, eating until there was nothing but bones and feathers, which Declan buried.

Dahlia purred when he returned to her side. "A true polite tom," she said appraisingly. "You're one of a dying breed."

Declan laughed, settling back down onto his belly. The sun felt so nice on his back. Just like the hot-season. So warm. He closed his eyes.

"Declan?"

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes to see Dahlia watching him. She looked a bit worried.

She looked away, allowing the sun to play across her pale face. "Do you ever think about the future?"

"Oh." He didn't know what to say about that. "I guess sometimes."

It was kind of true. He was more of an in-the-moment type of cat, he realized. He didn't like to think too far ahead. Although, he thought, he knew that Twist did.

"I do," Dahlia said softly. "All the time. And sometimes, I'm afraid of it." She turned to him, and for the first time, he could see something deep in her gaze, more than the cheerfulness on the surface.

It hit him: maybe Dahlia wasn't as happy as she put on.

Then she looked away and it was gone, so quickly that Declan wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. "But other times, I'm not. Mostly when I'm with you."

"Oh," Declan said softly.

"Oh?" Dahlia looked up at him quickly. Her breath came swiftly; he could see it in her throat. "Do you know what I mean?"

Declan looked away. The sun suddenly felt less comfortable. "Dahlia…"

"Declan, we've known each other for awhile now. Surely you've noticed how I feel about you."

Still not looking at her, Declan said, "It's impossible."

"It's not. It's true."

"I mean," he said, feeling flushed, "anything between you and me. It's impossible."

Dahlia stood suddenly. "It can't be," she choked out. "I know you feel something for me, too! Look at me right now and tell me it's not true."

Declan set his jaw, keeping his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Look at me." She made every word separate and distinct.

Tearing his eyes from the ground, he looked up at her.

With the sun behind her, she looked dazzling. Her fur was fringed with gold from the bright light and her face was haloed, turning her whiskers silver. She looked absolutely stunning, straight out of a dream.

"Tell me now," she said, her voice soft, barely audible over the wind.

Declan swallowed hard.

He loved Twist. He did. So much that it hurt sometimes—most times—but…he could not deny that he felt something for Dahlia. Whatever it was, it was wrong, poisonous, septic. Like a wound gone bad, foul, curling into something rotten and wrong.

But if that was true, why did he want to spend so much time with her? It was impossible to be in love with two cats and he was certainly not in love with Dahlia.

Or was he? It was all so confusing. His head hurt.

"Declan."

"Stop!" And suddenly, clarity came to his mind, pure and blinding as bright light. He got to his paws, shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. To the ground, he said, "Stop it, Dahlia. Stop…stop playing with me. I'm not some mouse for you to toy with. I'm not yours."

"No," she agreed. "You're your own."

"No!" he said, again, passionately now. "No, I'm not my own, because I belong to Twist. I shouldn't have to explain this to you, Dahlia, but I will, because you can't seem to take a hint: I'm in love with Twist. I'm done. I can't be with another she-cat because I can't _love_ another she-cat. I gave my heart to Twist and that's it. It's the forever kind. I can't go back to being the way I was, being alone. I can't. I'm not that cat anymore."

Her eyes slid to slits. "Yes, to Twist," she hissed. "What is she, anyway? A puny little she-cat. Not a proper mate to you, Declan. You deserve better than her."

"There is no cat better than her," he said coldly.

"She doesn't even tell you everything. She keeps secrets from you. I wouldn't—" She cut herself off abruptly, eyes glittering. "Declan," she said in a calmer voice, "be sensible. What possible future could you have with her? She gets angry at you for the slightest offenses. You think you can live with her forever? Face it: she doesn't want you."

"That's a lie," he said calmly, even though he was shaking.

Dahlia shook her head once, sharply. "She doesn't. And you can't truly want to be with her either otherwise you would have told her the truth about your nightmares."

That stopped him cold. He felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. "What are you talking about?"

She looked uncomfortable then, genuinely. "I've seen you. As part of my moon cycle's worth of service for the Sliders, I kept watch. I saw you go in and out of the Warren many times. I called out to you and you never responded."

"Where did I go? Did I ever say anything?" Panic rushed through him now, turbulent and wild. _What if I said I was going to the Claws to her? Does she know about that? Does she understand that half of me still wants that life again?_

Dahlia's expression quirked then. "What do you mean?"

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Nothing."

"That still doesn't answer my question. What do you mean, Declan? Are you really having bad nightmares? Where do you go at night?"

"That's…that's none of your business. I just sleepwalk sometimes." It was the most transparent excuse he'd ever spoken. He felt shivery all over, even in the warmth of the sun. He felt a stab of guilt for allowing himself to eat before the queens and Lucky, even the Claws. How had he allowed himself to be tricked into betraying every moral he had?

Dahlia made a soft sound of annoyance. "I was just asking as your friend. If you want to be with Twist, that's fine. I just don't see it."

"You don't have to. You don't know me."

"But I do, Declan," she said softly, watching his face carefully. "And I want you to know me."

Declan felt his pelt prickle and he looked away. "I'm sorry, Dahlia."

"You're not. If you were, you'd give me a chance. I can prove myself to you, Declan. I can be better for you than she can. I'd listen to you. I'd never judge you. I'd never shut you out because you told the truth. If you had feelings for someone else, I would understand."

With a horrible rush of realization, Declan knew what she was talking about. He turned to her, disbelief making his breath quick. "You listened to me talking to Twist."

She looked away guiltily. "I had to, Declan. You're the tom that I like. I want to know everything about you."

"Stop it. Stop talking like there's a chance we can be together."

She stamped her paw, then, like a kit. Her eyes burning, she spat, "But there _is! _And that's what you don't understand! You don't _have _to be with Twist!"

Declan repressed the desire to curl his lip. "I'm getting tired of this, Dahlia. Just drop it. I've already told you the truth. Nothing is going to change."

"Even though you have feelings for me?" Her face was shining with hopefulness. "Please, Declan, I just want to try it. Please give me a chance."

"You're a friend to me, Dahlia," he said softly, as the wind buffeted his fur. It was getting colder now, the night coming on. He realized then how long they'd been gone; what if Audrey's kits had already been born? He was going to miss their first moments because he was out here having a pointless argument with Dahlia. "Nothing more."

He turned his back on her, leaving her to the wind and cold, but he could have sworn she whispered, "We'll see."

XXXXXXXXXX

Declan stared down at the single kit by Audrey's belly, adoration and sorrow mingling rather strangely in his belly. It was the only one out of a litter of three to survive. Its littermates were too weakened by the cold-season and Audrey's condition; they hadn't even breathed their first before they passed on.

_Poor little scrap, _he thought as he stared down at it. _It could have known a whole litter of playmates. Now it will always be by itself._

Audrey's kit had been born very soon after Flint had arrived, and now it was completely dry and fluffy. A tiny brown tabby she-cat, her eyes still closed tight and her tiny tail wiggling.

Declan watched her, sighing contentedly, wistfulness rising from someplace deep within him. "She's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life," he said softly.

Audrey, tired-eyed and weary, managed a weak purr. "Thank you, Declan."

Twist was standing just behind Audrey, looking over her shoulder at the kit. Declan could have fallen in love with her all over again for the softness on her face then. "You did such a good job, Audrey," she said.

Audrey looked down at her kit gently. "If only her littermates…"

"It's not your fault." Now Amber stepped forward, dropping a mouthful of herbs in front of Audrey. "These things happen. It's no one's fault. Some kits are just born weaker than others. We will make sure that this kit stays nice and healthy."

"She'll grow up to be strong," Audrey growled, curling her tail around the little scrap. "And I know exactly how to make sure of it. Twist, Declan, I want you to be her guardians."

"What?" Twist blinked rapidly. "Audrey, are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You two are my closest friends." She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her kit. "I know you'll take good care of her if anything happens to me. She will be in capable paws."

"Audrey…" Declan didn't know what to say. A guardian for this kit! He couldn't believe it. "It would be an honor," he said finally.

Audrey leaned back so he could sniff the kit. She smelled milky, soft like the moss and feather bedding, and so warm. He breathed in slowly, memorizing the scent.

Twist caught his eye as he looked up. He saw his own face reflected in those yellow eyes and prayed that he'd been forgiven. Anything between him and Dahlia was over now, finished. He wouldn't go near her again. Not if it meant driving Twist away. Nothing was worth the distance in Twist's eyes.

Twist's expression changed subtly then, as if she'd understood. Then she dropped her gaze and Declan wasn't sure anymore.

Flint, looking peppy and bright, unlike his normal self, said, "She'll need a name, Audrey."

"I already have one." Audrey licked the kit's head, smoothing back the short fluffy fur. "Hazel."

"Hazel," Twist echoed.

"The last place I saw Snit was beneath a hazel bush," Audrey said softly. "He died beneath those leaves. If it was good enough for him, it will be good enough for my precious kit. She'll grow up strong and powerful like him."

_Though hopefully less conniving, _Declan couldn't help thinking. "Hazel is a beautiful name," he said aloud.

"Lucky's going to want to come in to meet her," Flint informed Audrey, stepping to the side. "I'll go fetch him now. Declan, Twist, if you wouldn't mind giving them a moment?"

"Of course." Twist bent her head to rub against Audrey's cheek for a moment before standing. "I'll be back later, okay?"

"Okay." Then her green eyes glinted with a bit of her old humor and she said, "Bring Declan with you. He'll need to get to know Hazel well as her guardian."

Declan felt a warm bubble of happiness bloom up inside him. Was this what it was like being a father?

Amber strode away on soft paws, gently pushing back the single Claw kit that had survived. The little kit refused to be repressed, though, and tumbled up to Audrey and her kit.

Audrey watched carefully but didn't push him away as the little kit bent to sniff Hazel.

"She's cute," he squeaked.

Audrey's eyes softened. She purred gently as his mother came to collect him, whispering an apology as they went back to their little den.

Twist stood there a moment more, awkwardly, before leading the way up the den's entrance.

They passed Lucky on the way out. He blinked, looking between them in surprise, then said, "Greetings. I hear that we have a new member to our family. Is it so?"

"Yes," Twist said. "A beautiful she-cat."

He nodded, his tail flicking up in obvious pleasure. "How delightful," he said, and Declan thought he sounded very comical in his slow even tone. "I shall have to meet her at once. Excuse me."

He dipped inside the healing den and out of sight. Declan let out a purr, watching him go, still bemused about the lightness in him where Declan had thought there was only icy emptiness.

"He'll never change." Twist's voice was flat but affectionate somehow.

Declan shook his head. "No, but I don't think I'd want him to."

She turned to him, head to the side. She seemed to catch herself then because the amusement faded from her eyes, replaced by that blankness he'd seen earlier. His heart swelled with fierce affection, almost aching.

"Twist, I have to talk to you," he said, almost not realizing the words coming out of his mouth until they were out in the open, hanging in the silence like downy feathers.

Twist turned away, her throat working. "You don't have to—"

"I love you," he said, cutting her off with a gentle touch of his paw on hers. "I do. I don't know how to prove it to you but it's true. If you don't believe it, maybe I'm not doing a good enough job of loving you. I can change, Twist. I'll do anything to make you believe me."

Twist stared at where his paw rested, taking in a deep breath. "I do believe you," she said in a tone so low Declan almost couldn't hear her over the wind. "But sometimes, I just…" She stopped herself with a sharp exhale, as if she'd been hurt. "I just don't know if I can… I'm just so confused."

"I am, too," Declan said, leaning in close to her. "This is new to me, too. I've never felt like this about anyone, Twist. I told you before: this is how I am now. I can't change anymore."

She was almost unintelligible when she whispered back, "Me either." She looked up at him and the sun caught in her yellow eyes, and in that moment, Declan couldn't imagine how he could have ever thought Dahlia was more beautiful than Twist. When the light hit her eyes, it was as if he could see right down inside her, right to the truth of her words. Right to where her true self rested, out of sight to the rest of the world. He could drown in the yellow of her eyes, he thought, and be glad about it.

Knowing it was okay now, he bent his head to brush his muzzle against hers. She held perfectly still, her whiskers trembling, before responding, rubbing her muzzle up through his thick neck fur. Her breath was warm against his chilled skin but Declan thought the warmth inside him would heat him from the inside out.

And now it was perfect. This moment was shining like a sunburst. How could he have ever had had any doubts? How could he ever had looked at Dahlia and wondered if he should be with her. Dahlia was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

Twist came back to their den again that night and they both slept peacefully. Declan, with Twist curled up against him, had never felt so rested. It was as if all the troubles and worries he'd had had simply vanished, dissolved like frost at dawn. He had no dreams but sweet ones, filled with the scent of Twist and the dark gleam of her fur and eyes.

When he awoke the next morning, she was already awake. She was sitting beside him, her back resting against his. Noticing he was up, she said, "I love you."

Declan purred, his voice raspy from sleep. He rolled onto his back, stretching his legs out in front of him, one at a time, relishing the stretch of his muscles. "That's a good way to wake up."

She curled on the ground next to him, nuzzling his ears. "I thought about something while you were sleeping," she said, getting right to the point like only Twist could.

"Hmm?" He couldn't imagine what had been stirring around in Twist's head.

"All the reasons that I was doubting you…they were the same for me. I never prove to you that I love you either. I'm really a hypocrite."

Declan hoisted himself to a sitting position, yawning so widely he was half-afraid his jaw would crack from the strain. "You don't have to," he said, flicking her nose with the tip of his tail. "I know every time you look at me."

She laughed once but it was worth ten of any other cats' laughs. "Sometimes, I wonder if that's good enough."

He pushed his head up beneath her chin, purring. "It is. So I'm forgiven?"

"As long as I am."

"Then I suppose we don't have a problem." He licked her ears. "Now come on. Let's go see our new little friend. I'm sure Audrey would love to see us."

Twist left first, leading the way into the sunlight that seemed much brighter than yesterday. Declan follow slowly, still half-asleep. The ground was free from snow for the first time in moon cycles, leaving a clear pathway down to the healing den.

He stopped just outside the den, waiting for Twist to enter first. He glanced up at the sound of pawsteps.

Dahlia was standing at the top of the rise, watching him. There was undisguised, raw envy in her eyes.

Declan looked away. _It's done, _he thought. _No more Dahlia. Not again._

And then he slid down into the healing den.

* * *

><p><strong>Did you know - on a sidenote - that Domino's Pizza allows you to make your own pasta? Me and my friend ordered online today and it was only like seven bucks apiece and I got CHEESY SALAMI PASTA. Doesn't that sound amazing~?<strong>

**Also, on another sidenote, my new obsession - well, actually an obsession stemming from when I was seven - is Spyro the dragon. There's so much beauty in that series. I'm still a bit iffy on the new series - I'm more of the old school original three kinda gal - but the new games have a very compelling storyline. And I do love to ship SpyroxCynder. X3**

**Anyway, enough jabbering.**

**You know what to do~**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	9. Up and Down

**So. We have some stuff to discuss, we do, we do.**

**Do you know what next month is? Thaaaaaat's right! NANOWRIMO!**

**I'm doing a double-NaNo this year - well, me and Fwirl are doing them together. That's 100K in a month. UGH. I'm going to die.**

**But it shall be a fun death.**

**So! This will be the last update I'll probably do until December. So we're going to have a nice little rest from Float, kay?**

**And, to make this doubly-fun - well, mostly for me, I'd imagine - this is a Lightfoot chapter! Think of it as a meaningless little fluff thing. Like an omake. I tried to make it fun but I'm sick and half-drugged so it's probably just going to be weird. Sorry.**

**theDiabolical - Oooh, divine! That makes me imagine myself in a Greek toga with one of those leafy crown things on my head. XD**

**Icestar0921 - I know. Cheesy jokes are the only ones I can do. I'll have to tell you guys my favorite joke another time. Maybe this bottom AN. XD**

**Koraki - Oh, no, I love the Inferno, but we had to read a really weird translation that made it super-boring. And it was only the first eight cantos so it was like only to the fourth circle - not even the good part! We just had to read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, too, so I totally Sparksnoted that sucka! XD**

**kitty cat - Haha. Dahlia is like dahl-ee-ah. It's a type of flower. XD**

**Tangleflame - Hee! -happy dances with you- They are so much funner to write when they're being all mushy-lovey-dovey. ^.^**

**LegendaryHero - Don't misunderstand. I'm not asking you to change your voice, I'm asking you to change your style. As you go along in your English classes in high school or if you pursue higher Lit classes in college or whatever, you'll find them to be two separate things. Voice is your opinion; style is how that opinion comes across to others. And right now, it's coming off as offensive. That doesn't mean I want you to just say mushy things - I don't need a pat on the back or someone to tell me how great I am or whatever - but I would like you to phrase things in a way that don't sound so harsh. So critique away, but be polite about it. Okay? :D**

**Ravenshade - Aaaahhhh~ Sushi~ I love it. I love eel sushi with cream cheese the best. I could eat it like everyday. Today I'm sick and only had nutella sandwiches, but that's tasty, too. XD Hee! I'm glad you like Hazel! She will be getting much more screentime, I assure you. ;) (Oh God, now I sound like Lucky. That's like his signature line or something. XD) Is it sad that it took me a minute to remember WindxAmber? That was soooo long ago but I think I loved writing them. I could have done it so much better, though, but hopefully I've improved since then!**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Haha, Twist should have gone to her mom! She knows all about crazy love things! XD**

**Queen of the Pens - What took me? Hmm... Would you believe that I joined forces with ninja cats and purged the world of evil? It's so much better than the real reason. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Hee~! But everyone loooooves the psycho characters!**

**SoccerGeek7699 - Whoa whoa. Breathe, SG, breathe! I wish you could bottle up some of that hyper and send it my way! XD That is definitely a reference to Star Trek, though! I never watched it - I don't care much for sci-fi - but I have heard everyone use that line in normal conversation. XD**

**Rapidfeather - Aaaw, lucky! I haven't ridden a horse for like five years. -jealous of you-**

**monkeyCsaw - Hee! There's an albino EVERYTHING, my friend. It's a very rare trait but it exists. And - fact of the day - albino dolphins? They're PINK. Like bubblegum-pink! Go Google it!**

**Okay. Blah blah blah, more things.**

**Song. Right. Uhhh...**

**I don't have one.**

**Though I am recently obsessed with that song You Make Me Feel by Cobra Starship. It makes me wanna DAHNCE.**

**Anyway. Onto Lightfoot's PoV!**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p><em>These cats are so annoying, <em>Lightfoot thought.

It was exactly sunrise when she ventured from her den, stretching each leg in turn until her muscles felt loose and limber. Her eyes cut across the pathways crisscrossing in front of her, seeking out any sign of another cat. No one was usually awake at this time. That's why Lightfoot liked it so much.

The woods were empty and deep this morning, their calm stillness making Lightfoot's breathing easier, making it much better. She felt that darkness seep into her bones, strengthening her.

She was already halfway across the Sliders' territory before the sun was spilling soft orange and pink light across the ground at her paws. It was her daily task, one she took upon herself, to walk these paths and make sure no trespassers ventured here. Lucky had promised her that if she did ever find someone, she could act as she saw fit.

Lightfoot licked her lips at the thought, feeling an excited tingle run down her spine.

She always hoped she would come across _something _out here—a stray wandering too far from his owners, a badger, a fox. She could take on anything. All she needed was the element of surprise and a stealth that came as naturally to her as breathing.

She rested for a bit beneath the shelter of a bramble bush, which was curling with fresh green buds that prickled against her nose as she sniffed them. She drew back, her tail twitching, and watched the light play out across the ground in front of her.

She didn't mind being alone. It was peaceful and easy. Being with other cats, _that _was difficult. Especially when they made it so easy to spark her temper.

Lightfoot fancied herself an intelligent cat. That and beautiful, quick, fierce, agile—ah, she could go on. No one was as smart as her, nor as quick. These Sliders were very soft-hearted—especially that Declan, who rubbed her fur the wrong way—but she still put up with them. Because after all, if she couldn't rely on her family, who could she rely on at all?

A mouse peeped its head out of its burrow directly opposite Lightfoot. At the movement—the scent coming half a heartbeat later—she froze, a cat of ice. She watched with unblinking eyes as it blundered into the middle of the path, unknowing of the deadly threat lying so close to it.

This mouse was old. Its fur hung mangy on its thin frame, under which could not have been much meat. Its whiskers were bent and crooked, its tail scabbed. It limped on one paw—the front one closest to Lightfoot—showing proof of an old injury that had weakened it.

Lightfoot watched it, not hungry, not wanting for food, but wanting for this mouse's end. She wanted to be the one to kill it. The urge almost overwhelmed her. Over the seasons of her life, Lightfoot had honed this special skill, this waiting. She had to rein in the urge, otherwise it would take her over.

The mouse turned its back to her to pick at a seed, and that's when Lightfoot struck.

She was quick, merciful. One paw to the back snapped its spine. A bite to the back of the neck sealed the deal.

The mouse was dead at her paws, still warm, still moving slightly. The sight filled Lightfoot with a nameless glee.

Hunting was her favorite thing to do. She couldn't think of anything she loved to do more.

And the bigger the hunt, the higher the stakes rose. Nothing set her blood pumping like the threat of danger: especially if she was the one targeting.

The Warren was alive when she got back, carefully avoiding them. Lightfoot didn't like to be touched much; the closeness of other cats set her nerves buzzing like angry bees. She would prefer to live alone on the far side—which she had done for nearly her entire time here—but now the Claws rested there.

_The Claws. _She narrowed her eyes in their direction. They'd been fattening up these days, growing round and plump as queens, while the Sliders slowly starved. If this freeze didn't break soon, they'd all die.

_If I had my way, we'd be done and gone with them, _Lightfoot thought. She'd told Lucky her thoughts but his mind was clouded with doubts still. She could see it in his eyes. For all her flaws—and there weren't many, she added in an afterthought—she was good at reading others. She could tell Lucky was weakening but she couldn't tell how. Not yet.

"Good morning, Lightfoot." It was Flint, being polite to her as usual.

Lightfoot felt a kind of amusement come over her. The gray tabby fancied himself above the Sliders now, walking around with his nose in the air like he was better than the rest of them, but Lightfoot knew exactly how to press on his nerves. She loved the flash of fear she saw in his eyes sometimes, almost as much as she loved prey-fear. "Good morning, Flint. How is Hazel?"

"She's fine. Growing quickly. She's already trying to totter around."

"Will her eyes open soon?"

Flint put his head to the side, frowning. "Amber tells me it takes awhile. She won't be really up and running for about a moon cycle more."

Lightfoot felt a curious disappointment. She'd been hoping to see Hazel really run. That way, she could learn to hunt.

Flint watched her, his expression growing strangely tense. "Are you going to see her?"

Lightfoot snapped out of her thoughts with a shake of her head. "Yes. Yes, perhaps. Here, you can have this." She dropped the mouse at his paws, uninterested now, and headed to the healing den.

Audrey was dozing, her chin bumping against her chest as she nodded off. Lightfoot watched for a moment, head to the side, noticing that Audrey was coming back up to a normal weight, before saying, "Hey."

Audrey's head snapped up at once, her eyes flying open. There was undisguised fear in them as she looked at Lightfoot, then she relaxed. "Oh, it's just you."

"Yes, just me," Lightfoot said, her voice turning dull. "How are you this morning?"

"Good…" Audrey looked confused. "What are you doing here, Lightfoot?"

"I wanted to come and visit Hazel."

The kit in question was curled against Audrey's belly, burrowed into the pale ginger fur there. Lightfoot dropped onto her belly to watch, blinking quickly as the kit twisted and curled uncomfortably.

"Is she sick?" she asked.

Audrey stifled a yawn. "Amber says it's just a slight fever. It's because of the weather."

Lightfoot shifted. "You're not keeping her warm enough?"

Audrey turned an amused look on Lightfoot. "Are you worried about her? There's no need; this is a normal thing."

Lightfoot let out a noncommittal noise. The little kit was a very lovely color, she supposed. Like a nice oak brown: very slightly reddish. Her tabby bands were deep black, and she had fine little white paws. "She looks nothing like you," Lightfoot pointed out.

"She looks more like me than her—" She cut off very suddenly then. "My mother was brown-furred."

_I see, _Lightfoot thought. _She still harbors ill-feelings for her once-mate. _The idea of mates didn't interest Lightfoot. She didn't want kits, couldn't even imagine herself with a belly full of little furry wrigglers like Hazel. She didn't want a mate either, really. She had been by herself for a long time, anyway. If she was going to find a mate, she would have done it already.

She supposed that Beck might have been her mate eventually. But he was dead now. So that was the end of that.

Hazel mewed, a bright loud sound that made Lightfoot jump a little. She wiggled a bit, pushing off her mother's belly. She spilled over Audrey's hind leg, landing on her chest. Audrey lifted her up a bit and that's when Lightfoot saw them.

"Her eyes!" Lightfoot said, something that wasn't her normal sharpness coming into her voice, surprising herself.

Audrey turned quickly, seeming just as surprised at Lightfoot's excitement as she was, and gasped. "By the stars! Her eyes are open!"

Hazel, squinting at them with a misty, half-open gaze, mewed at their sudden closeness. Her eyes were gummy with stickiness as she blinked slowly, seeing for the first time.

"Oh, we must get Declan and Twist," Audrey said brightly. "Lightfoot, if you would—"

"Of course." Lightfoot got to her paws and exited the den, hurrying to where the two guardians lived.

Lightfoot felt a certain fondness for the pair of them, despite her annoyance with their evident lovey-dovey antics. Declan could never seem to keep his eyes off of Twist, and her the same. Watching them was like looking into a very bright light: Lightfoot could only watch them for so long before she had to remove her gaze.

Sure enough, they were still sleeping, the lazy slugs. Declan was on his belly, his hind legs sprawled out behind him, and Twist was lying on top of his shoulders, her paws overhanging to his other side, her cheek pressed into the back of his neck. They hadn't even heard her approach.

Lightfoot cleared her throat, her claws kneading the ground. They were going to miss Hazel's first sights just because they were too busy sleeping.

"Hey," she said, striding up to Twist and prodding her in the head.

Twist sighed in her sleep, turning to press her face more deeply into Declan's fur.

"Wake up," Lightfoot said, poking her again. "It's important."

"Important enough to wake us up before sunrise?" Declan asked groggily without opening his eyes.

"It's well after sunrise, my fine-minded friend. You'd know that if you were conscious and not lying about so late into the afternoon."

"Afternoon?" And now Twist opened her eyes, squinting in the light coming from behind Lightfoot. "It's not afternoon. It's morning."

"Fine," Lightfoot said, feeling the snap come back into her voice. This was why she didn't like to deal with others. "You'll just miss the attack. Lucky ordered every Slider up to face them. You know, the killer?"

Twist jolted upright at that but not as quickly as Declan. He got his forepaws underneath him and shoved himself into a sitting position; Twist, looking too stunned still, slid off his back and landed ungracefully on the ground with an "Oomph!"

"The killer is here?" Declan gasped.

Lightfoot curled her tail behind her. "No," she said cheerfully. "But now that you're awake, Audrey was calling for you. So come on, let's go. You're taking too long. Come on, come on."

Complaining in low voices and shooting Lightfoot dirty looks, the pair of them followed her dutifully to the healing den.

"What's the deal, Lightfoot? Why are you coming to get us? What's really going on?" Twist's question were coming in quick succession now but Lightfoot stayed gleefully silent. The buoyancy she felt was very delightful, as if the kit's new eyes had brightened her own vision.

They quickly fell silent as they slid into the den, Lightfoot bringing up the end. Audrey greeted them with a cheerful hello, before proudly turning her daughter around.

Hazel lay on her pudgy belly, squirming around still. Her eyes, now fully open, were a very foggy blue.

"Her eyes are open!" Twist gasped. She hurried forward and bent her head to Hazel, her yellow eyes darting between the brand new ones. "They're blue!"

"Not for much longer." Amber, looking much fresher, strode in behind them, followed closely by Flint. "Her eyes will turn their normal color within a quarter-moon or so. Unless they really are blue." She looked up into Audrey's face, at her bright green eyes. "What color were your mother's eyes? Or your mate's?"

"My mother's were green, too. My _mate_—"she spat the word—"had mixed eyes. One green, one yellow."

"Then blue eyes would be rather unlikely," Amber said, sniffing the kit over. "She needs more soothing mint for her fever," she said in an undertone to Flint, who ducked into another den.

"How do you know that?" Declan asked.

Amber brushed Hazel's fur smooth, feeling the kit's tiny pads and her dry, pink nose. "Things you pick up," she said softly, "when your allegiance lies with one who picks his cats based on eye color."

At once, Lightfoot felt that same curl of white-hot anger, of hate, of killing thirst, rise up inside her. She felt it transform in her stomach to cold fury and kept it there. She didn't want it to show on her face—sometimes, cats took that strangely.

Twist didn't say anything but her face must have changed because Declan pressed into her and murmured in her ear, words meant only for her.

Lightfoot looked away.

The herbs were provided to the kit in the tiniest dose Lightfoot had ever seen and Amber shooed them out. Audrey and the kit both needed rest, she said, and they couldn't get it if the den was full of cats.

Declan and Twist immediately went back to their den—probably for more saccharine cuddling, Lightfoot thought with distaste—and Lightfoot went about her business.

_I wonder, I wonder, _she thought, headed towards the main circle of nests, _how I should spend the rest of the day?_

Her eyes cut towards the place where the Claws rested, quietly for now. She narrowed her eyes.

_Well, I know how I would _love _to spend it._

She curled her claws into the ground with glee at the imagined carnage. She would accept the Claw kit because it was still innocent yet, but she had no such affections about the rest of its kin. They all should die, nice and slow and painfully, just like Beck had. She would love to watch. She would love to be the claws behind that agony.

"Lightfoot."

She turned at the sound, shoulders hunched, fur bristling. She was not happy about the interruption. "Yes, Lucky?"

He was as cool and focused as ever. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him be angry, be passionate, except for the battle against the Claws. Which is why she found his new kindness towards them particularly intriguing. What could be lurking behind those dark, dark eyes?

"I would like a word with you. I have a job that I believe you would perform wonderfully." His manner of speaking wore on her nerves sometimes; it took him so long to spit out what he really wanted. In that way, she wished he was more direct, more like Twist. That she-cat couldn't stand to keep something bottled up.

Lightfoot turned away, stretching out her claws to scratch at the cardboard of the box-nest she was top. "I'm a little busy."

"Yes, I assumed your thoughts were getting away from you. Tell me, were you killing the Claws or simply terrifying them?"

Lightfoot chuckled. "Definitely killing."

He made an unhappy humming sound. "Yes, so I imagined. Anyway, the job. I wish for you to take out the young ones for hunting practice."

"What?" She turned to look sourly at him. "You want me to train kits? Are you insane?"

"No, I am quite sound of mind. I believe you would be good at it. You are a fantastic hunter, after all."

She allowed that with an accepting nod of her head. It was true, after all. "Yes, but kits? I don't have the patience for them."

"Not kits. I want you to take Max, Marco, and Viktor's litter."

"Six? That's too many. I'd lose track of the little bugs." She turned her head away sharply, not even wanting to look at him. Her tail tip twitched at the thought of it. Six wild little cats running around, driving her insane. She wouldn't last a pawful of heartbeats before she had to smack one of them.

"You may take another with you, if you would like."

"Another kit?"

Lucky laughed then, once and quickly. "Another cat to help you. If you need aid, of course." He dipped his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She felt affronted. "I don't need another cat's help," she hissed.

"Very good! I will see you at sunset when you return with your young pupils." He waved his tail and walked away, leaving Lightfoot to silently steam.

Fortunately for Lucky, he stayed out of her way. He'd sent the cats to the front gate, where they were waiting in lines and piles. The weak one, Max, was sitting expertly next to the black-and-white one named Marco. Viktor's spawn were heaped together, with that sour-faced gray one on top—she couldn't remember his name.

When she approached, they all leapt to their paws in attention. Amused for half a heartbeat, she turned her cold gaze on Marco, the oldest. "Why are you even here?" she asked, mystified. "You're old enough to be hunting on your own."

He looked a little defensive, his eyes tightening just slightly, but Lightfoot caught it; she was excellent at reading expressions. It must have come from living so long in captivity, she thought. "I'm here to help Max. He's weak on one side." He nodded to the side of the young white tom's face that was in tatters.

"Oh right." Lightfoot remembered that incident. It was what had started this entire war with the Claws. That and Declan's inability to allow Twist to disappear from his sight for more than two heartbeats. "So you're his ear, then?"

"Yes." He puffed out his chest, obviously proud.

Lightfoot rolled her eyes. "Okay, let's go."

The ground was clear of snow but the air was still stiff and cold, the sign of more bad weather. A glance to the clouds told her that there would be no more snow—they were fluffy and white, not the heavy purple of oncoming storms—but the breeze told her otherwise. It bit into the pink skin of her nose, making her shiver.

Winter was a beautiful time of the year. All light and shadows. A cold, unforgiving thing. Just like her. She chuckled.

One of Viktor's kits—the white one, a she-cat—spoke up for the first time. "What are you going to teach us, Lightfoot?" She sounded challenging, something Lightfoot liked.

"Hunting, obviously."

"What kind of hunting?"

Lightfoot felt her patience being worn. "The kind that ends with you having a meal," she said slowly, turning her stare on the kit.

Not really a kit, she thought. This she-cat—Whisper, was her name, judging by her brother's whispered warning—was growing longer and leaner, more of her mother's build than her father's. She had a kind of clear intelligence in her yellow eyes that Lightfoot found compelling. She would make an excellent hunter.

Now more interested, ignoring the other kits, Lightfoot turned to face her, head to the side. "What do you know about hunting, Whisper?"

Whisper didn't flinch. "Everything. I know how to hunt birds by stalking through tall grass. I know how to lure mice from their burrows with acorns. I know how to catch fish by not allowing my shadow to fall in the water. I know that rabbits freeze when startled, so it's easy to pounce on them before they take off." She was outright bragging, not ashamed of her talents.

Lightfoot said, "Well, then. Let's see it. Go catch something. In fact, whoever catches something first gets a special tutoring session with yours truly. The bigger, the better. Come back with something impressive and you won't regret it."

The other white one, softer-spoken, said, "Um, excuse me, Lightfoot, what do you mean by—"

Lightfoot rolled her eyes. Throwing herself onto a rock so that she was one head higher than them, she lounged luxuriously. Yawning widely, tongue curling, whiskers bristling, she said, "Catch something. Go out into the woods and bring me something back." She flicked her tail, utterly amused at their confusion. Perhaps kits could be fun after all, she thought.

The gray one, Adder, said, "You want us to go out into the woods alone?"

"Sure. I did when I was your age and look at me now." She tossed her head back, looking down at them through arrogant eyes. "I'm strong, tough, beautiful, intelligent. The best cat in the Sliders for sure. Oh, don't give me that look," she said when Marco shared a glance with Max. "You know it's true. I'm amazing." Her head rested atop her front crossed paws as she watched them. "There's no need in pretending you're not as amazing as you think you are. If you got it, flaunt it, right?"

"My mother says you have to be humble and honest," the stripe-tailed one said, his voice confident.

"Who are you?" she asked, confused.

"Streak."

"Streak," she repeated. "You're wrong. If you want to get anywhere in this world, it's through showing off. How else will you get attention?" When he looked uncertain, she went on. "You think you're going to just _humble _yourself through life? Wake up, brat. It's not about being humble: it's about being great. So go show me what you've got. I'll be here waiting."

Streak, looking clearly offended, didn't move. Whisper, his much better sister, Lightfoot thought, turned that instant and took off into the forest.

"There's a girl," Lightfoot praised. Then she turned her eyes on the rest of them, staring up at her still. "Well?"

Adder went first, followed by Max and Marco, leaving behind Streak and his other sister. He cast her a suspicious look and darted into the forest with his sister.

Lightfoot chuckled again, stretching out her front paws and extending the claws, before deciding to take a nap while she was waiting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Lightfoot. Lightfoot. Hey, Lightfoot. Lightfoot!"

Lightfoot groaned, rolling over onto her back. The warm sun filtered down through the patchy clouds onto her belly fur, warming at as she lay on the stone.

"Lightfoot! Wake up! I have something! Look, look! You have to look."

"I'm looking, brat," Lightfoot said.

Whisper made an impatient sound. "You can't look with your eyes shut. Come on, I won! You have to look."

Lightfoot blinked open her eyes to see Whisper's face right above hers, a long pink tail falling down from her mouth.

"Look at the size of this mouse I found!"

Lightfoot felt a tinge of disgust as she pushed the tail away. "That's not a mouse, it's a rat. You shouldn't eat those. They'll make you sick."

"I meant rat." Whisper couldn't be put down. She leapt from paw to paw, the rat still dangling in her jaws. "Can you believe it? Look at this size of it! And besides, we eat them in the Warren, don't we?"

"We used to. Lucky banned it after a few cats got sick." That was when no-pelts still threw rubbish into the Warren, though, Lightfoot thought. Rats ate garbage and no nutrition would be got from them that way. A cat may as well eat garbage themselves.

Whisper dropped it to the ground with a heavy thud. "Well, _I _think it's awesome," she said petulantly. "And I won the challenge. I came back first with prey. Now you have to reward me."

"Mm." Lightfoot dropped her head back to her paws. "I don't feel like it. Maybe some other day, brat." She felt a soft whack to her nose and opened her eyes to see Whisper's furious face a mouse-length away.

"You promised!" she spat. "You're going to become a liar now?"

Lightfoot felt a surge of anger. That anger was dying to go unchecked, to clobber this puny kit into paste, but she restrained herself. "Don't touch me," she growled. "Pesky little bug, I told you I would reward you. I didn't say when."

"So you are a liar," Whisper said.

Lightfoot bared her teeth. Most cats would cower away from her when she was this angry but not Whisper. And that was the only reason she hadn't gotten a well-deserved clout to the head, Lightfoot reckoned. "Keep it up. I won't teach you at all."

"Aw, Whisper beat us." It was Marco now, trotting in front of Max. The pair of them had only a blackbird between them, a tiny little meek thing. It wouldn't have been very hard to catch, she thought.

"By a landslide," Whisper said proudly, curling her tail in pleasure. She pushed her rat to the center of the space, right below Lightfoot's paws, and announced, "I'm the greatest hunter ever."

"Yes," Lightfoot said slowly, her front paw hooked over her nose; she looked beneath her forearm to watch Whisper, irritated. "Catching diseased prey. At this rate, you'll be the _only _hunter ever. You're going to make everyone ill."

Whisper frowned. "Don't be jealous because I caught something you couldn't, Lightfoot!"

At once, Lightfoot flashed to her paws, sliding down off the rock. She strode right up to Whisper, towering over her. Whisper recoiled slightly but didn't move as Lightfoot bared her teeth.

"Is that a challenge?" she snarled.

Whisper narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, it is. Let's see _you _catch something. Besides catching up on your sleep!"

From behind her, Lightfoot heard Streak gasp as he entered the clearing. He ran up between her and his sister, pushing Whisper behind him.

"She didn't mean it!" he said quickly.

"You didn't even hear what she said." Lightfoot paid him no attention; he was nothing but an annoyance to her, a little bug. He would be easy to dispatch if it was called for. "Stand aside."

Streak pushed Whisper further behind himself. "No. Please, Lightfoot, don't—"

"I said stand aside!" She shoved him away roughly, sending him spinning. Ignoring his weak cry of shock, she stepped to Whisper again. "Alright, kit," she said smoothly. "You think I can't beat you in a hunting race? Fine. Prepare to be humiliated."

Whisper bared her fangs. "You first."

Lightfoot laughed hard. Then she stepped away lithely. "So easy to spark," she said lightly. "Such a hot-tempered little thing, aren't you?" All of her thoughts about Whisper being a good Slider were coming true, she realized. Out of all of them, this tiny little kit had the fire to be great. _Just like me at that age. _Lightfoot sighed fondly.

Whisper misinterpreted this. She stepped back, scraping up a clawful of dust as she tried to intimidate her. "Come on!" she goaded. "I want to challenge you."

Lightfoot pressed Whisper's head down with her paw. "No you don't. You just want to stand out. Just like any cat should. But," she growled, digging her claws just slightly into Whisper's soft head, "don't try your luck with me. Those who go against me lose more than a challenge." She shoved her away, turning to watch Adder and the other sister come back into the clearing, burdened down with a pair of mice each. "Okay, brats. Let's go home."

"What about my special lesson?" Whisper demanded.

Lightfoot, halfway across the clearing, turned at her voice. Narrowing her eyes to slants, she said, "Well, brat, I think you just had it, didn't you? Consider it a life lesson: don't mess with those bigger than you." She turned and flicked her tail, hearing the tiny pawsteps of the kits behind her.

Lucky was waiting for them with expectant eyes. His expression lit with delight at their catches. "Well done, my friends," he greeted warmly. "You have brought great honor to the Sliders with this prey. Please take it straight to the Claws. They need it more than we do."

Adder set down his mouse. "But what about us?" he asked plaintively.

Some flashed in Lucky's eyes—something like panic—but he said smoothly, "We have other prey. Please, Adder, lead the way. Good job."

Adder shot Lucky a final glance before flicking his tail to his littermates. Whisper, having given up her rat at Lightfoot's command, looked resentfully at her—a look that Lightfoot returned with a sarcastic wave of her tail. Looking insulted, Whisper turned her back on Lightfoot and followed after her siblings.

Lucky sighed at that. "Making enemies with kits now, Lightfoot? Are there not enough rogues still in the forest to garner your hate?"

"I have to save bits of it for the new generation, don't you think?" She turned to look at him, seeing worry on his face. "What? It's not anything serious. I'm trying to keep her from ending up too much like me. We can't have two beings of absolute perfection in the Sliders. It would never work out well."

"As humble as always. You never cease to amaze me with your pride, Lightfoot." Lucky shook his head.

Lightfoot smirked. "That's always a good sign. But," she went on, furrowing her brow, "what's going on? You look concerned about something."

He jumped a little. "M-me?" he asked, and Lightfoot knew something was up. "Nothing, of course. Just the stress of caring for more cats than normal. It is nothing, I assure you."

"And the Sliders are buying that, are they?" she asked skeptically.

Lucky stared at her for a full heartbeat before dropping his gaze. "It is nothing, Lightfoot. Please, do not press me. I do not wish to speak of it."

"Is it something that's going to affect how we run things around here?" Lightfoot asked.

Lucky hesitated. "I do not believe so. Please just keep this to yourself, alright?"

"Alright," Lightfoot agreed. It was clearly of no importance to her. She said her goodbyes and headed to her own den.

"Thank you, Lightfoot," he called after her. "You did a good job."

Lightfoot chuckled beneath her breath. _You wouldn't be thanking me if you saw my teaching style, _she thought.

Her den was deliciously cool after a day of such exertion. She threw herself onto her nest, curling up in the soft feathers and dried grass, and closed her eyes.

Outside her den, Whisper streaked by, howling fury at Adder. "_I did a perfectly good job! It's not my fault that Lightfoot is a dunderhead! I'll do so well that you'll have to ask _me _to go out hunting one day!"_

Lightfoot groaned. _These cats are so annoying._

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaay. Bookends!<strong>

**So I've been really depressed lately and I'm sure that's showing in this chapter. My parents called me today and called me socially-weird and "worrisome" because I don't like to date. I dunno, I just don't like it. It's super-awkward for one. Like, the last date I went on, the guy didn't even really talk to me, so I had to jibber-jabber the whole time, which I tend to do in stressful situations.**

**He just STARED at me.**

**Totally awk.**

**So I didn't go anywhere with him again. XD**

**What can I say? I'll probably die alone, surrounded by dogs.**

**Why dogs?**

**Cats are for crazy people.**

**XD**

**Oh right. So this is the last update until December. So I'll see you guys theeeeen~**

**Be friends with me on NaNoWriMo! I'm Shadow Before The Storm there. Let us suffer together!**

**Anyway.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	10. Warmth and Cold

**Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii~! I'm back from my NaNo-induced coma! And on the first day of December, too! I am so good. XD**

**I managed to get to 50K with about two weeks to spare this time, which was pretty good considering all the work I've been loaded down with. As we type, I have three exams and thirty pages of script to do, but I put it all off so I could update. Wasn't that sweet of me? XD**

**Also, what the _heck _was I thinking, making the last chapter about Lightfoot? You guys should have declared me properly insane after that but I guess I haven't scared all of you off yet. Here's hoping I NEVER do that again, 'kay?**

**Anyway. I don't wanna do review replies tonight because I'm tired and my bed calls to me, so...yeah. Sorry. ^w^**

**And onto the story~**

* * *

><p>For the first time in longer than Twist could remember, there was no snow on the ground. The grass, yellowed still, stretched out in front of her like a pale patchy pelt, interspaced with blank pockets of soft, warm dirt. She stretched out on one of these spaces, her shoulder digging into the dirt. It felt good against her fur as she wiggled around, tail curling in pleasure.<p>

Without opening her eyes, she said, "Isn't this great?"

Declan hummed in response. She turned her head slightly to the side to see him watching her, green eyes soft as ever. "I'd find it much less enjoyable if not for the company," he said.

Twist whapped him playfully with her forepaw. This was the first time they'd been alone—truly alone—in so long. Ever since Hazel was born, they'd had to watch over her. The little kit was getting much more adventurous, trying to escape her mother's grasp and venture out into the Warren. It was dangerous for one so small. And despite her loud mews for attention or milk, she still wasn't very talkative.

"That will come later," Amber had said two mornings ago, soothing Hazel's cries with a soft brush of her forepaw. She had frowned. "She seems to be feverish again, Audrey. Haven't you been keeping her warm?"

"Of course!" Audrey had sounded affronted. She had curled Hazel closer to her chest, licking the kit's head vigorously. "She is, after all, my only kit."

Twist didn't want to be suspicious of Audrey but she couldn't help it—it was in her nature as a mountain cat to suspect everybody. She wondered if Audrey had been sneaking out at night or something, something that would keep her away from Hazel during the coldest times of night. Despite the ever-present breath of the green-season, the nights remained locked in the teeth of ice and cutting wind.

Declan rolled onto his belly, pushing his forepaws and hindpaws away from him. He yawned impressively wide, his tongue curling. Then he slumped forward, as if this singularly lazy act had tired him. "Hazel's cough was worse today?"

"Worse than two days ago." Twist sighed. They hadn't seen the little scrap in that long and Twist was beginning to miss her. It brightened her day to see the wriggling ball of fur, no matter how annoyingly cute she got or how clingy she was for attention. It seemed to be the kit's way of showing affection, Twist thought.

"Amber will take good care of her." Declan butted Twist's shoulder affectionately, leaving his cheek pressed against her fur for a few moments longer than necessary. "She gave her honey a few days ago."

Twist leaned down to rest her muzzle between Declan's pointed ears, relaxing into the scent of his fur. "I know. But I'm still worried."

Declan snorted. "You're more worried than her mother is."

Twist looked away sourly. _I know, _she thought. _That's the problem._

She didn't say it out loud, not because she didn't trust Declan—he'd done more than prove he was loyal only to her, keeping a wide distance away from the pale-furred she-fox Dahlia—but because she didn't want the words out of her head. She didn't want to feel the finality of them spoken aloud. And so she remained silent, keeping the suspicion buzzing like bees in her skull.

The sun sank behind a cloud, sending a cold draft of shadow across the ground at Twist's paws. In it, she could see the waving outline of leaves dancing back and forth. Her eyes froze on it, following the movement with enraptured eyes.

Subtly, Declan rolled over a little more, stretching his forepaws out to cover the shadows. He looked up at her, eyes wide like a bird's. "I was thinking," he said slowly.

Thankful for the distracting from her old phobia, Twist said, laughing, "Oh, that's never good."

He frowned, one ear twitching. "About…kits."

"Oh?" Twist crossed her paws in front of her. "What about them?"

Now it was Declan's turn to look away. He looked almost embarrassed, his whiskers bristling, his tongue darting out to lick his lips more than once. "I mean…they're cute, right? Hazel is really cute."

"She is," Twist agreed slowly. A sort of trickling numbness was entering her chest. What was Declan talking about?

"So I was thinking," he said again, fumbling now with a bit of old twig on the ground. It snapped between his paws as he tried to stand it upright. "Wouldn't it be nice to, you know…have some of our own?"

Twist blinked. "Have kits?"

"You hadn't thought about it?" Even though he didn't look at her, Twist could tell he was disappointed. His voice sounded a bit more hopeful as he added, "I don't mean now. But I mean…in the future. Wouldn't you like to have a family?"

"With you?" Twist asked, still reeling.

Declan huffed. "No, with a badger. Yes, I mean with me! I mean, I would hope you wouldn't consider any other tom for kit-having. That would be a really bad blow to my pride, I have to admit." His eyes peeked up at her from beneath his eyelashes. "Say something, please. I'm dying over here."

"Uh…" Twist blinked again, still stunned.

Kits? She loved them, it was true, but to have some herself? She had to admit that the idea had never occurred to her. Of course she loved Declan—so much that it frightened and elated her every time she thought about it—but to have kits with him? The idea ensnared her, though she still felt a pang of uneasiness deep in her belly.

"Is it a bad idea? It's a bad idea, isn't it?" He sighed, dropping his chin onto the ground, his paws splayed half-upwards at his side. "Sorry."

"N-no," Twist said. "It's not…a bad idea."

Declan looked up, hopeful. "No?"

"No." Then she hesitated. "But…I don't know if I'm ready to start a family. It's not that I don't love you—"

"I didn't think that," Declan said, now looking surprised. He raised his head, his eyes sparkling like usual. "I don't ever think that. There are some things that I never have to worry about."

Twist felt a rush of fierce affection for him. Reaching out with a forepaw, she said, "We're still young. Let's just…wait and see, okay? I don't want to rush into anything."

Declan ducked his head shyly. "I didn't know how to bring it up to you so I figured I'd just say it. Is that okay?"

Twist purred. Reaching across to touch her nose to his, she said, "It's perfect."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back in camp, many Sliders were gathered, pacing back and forth, neck fur fluffed up. Twist and Declan stopped at the front gate, passing by Iggy.

"What's going on?" Declan called to him.

The scruffy old tom came stalking over. He looked mad as the rest of him, his eyes sharp and cutting as ice. "Lucky has just declared that our entire round of prey is to go to the Claws. He won't even listen to anybody."

Declan and Twist shared an uneasy glance. Then Twist asked, "Why can't we allow the Claws to hunt on our land? They can catch their own food."

Iggy stared at her with sour eyes. "And what? So they can go out and find their allies? Who knows, maybe they're even in league with the murderer. I wouldn't put it past Sorrow. She's a nightmare wrapped up in a pretty package." He stalked away back to where Kent and Gravel were standing, grim-faced.

Twist glanced over at Declan. "What do you think happened now? The Claws haven't ever been allowed to hunt on our land since they've been here."

Declan, still watching Iggy, shook his head. "I don't know. I think we need to go talk to Lucky."

Lucky's den was blocked by both Max and Marco. The two young toms had grown well in the past few moons, their chests deepening and their muscles growing stronger. Max was nearly the same size as his best friend now, his white pelt smooth and unbroken as fresh-fallen snow. It had even grown back in around his face, covering up most of the damage the Claws had dealt him. All that was left of his ears poked above the soft fur, the ridges of skin looking like cracks in the mountain's side.

Marco, a shadow to Max's overwhelming whiteness, straightened as they approached. The black spots around his eyes made the color look very green, almost as green as Declan's. "No one passes," he said gruffly, raising his chin. "Lucky's orders."

"Who's in there with him now?" Twist asked. "Speak, runt."

Marco looked affronted, puffing up like a blue jay, but Max put in, "Viktor and Kite."

Marco turned on him. "Shh! We're not supposed to tell them that!"

Max's eyes went wide. "We can't tell them they're talking about the Claws, either?"

"Shut up, moron!"

Declan's whiskers were twitching. "So now that we know who's _not _in there and what they're _not _talking about, can you just tell Lucky we have a question for him?"

Max looked hesitant, as did Marco. "Our orders didn't say anything like that," Marco said slowly.

"Who's out there? That sounds like Declan." Viktor's huge form appeared from the gloom inside the tunnel to Lucky's den. His eye alighted on them, his gaze brightening. "Oh, good. Perhaps you can work some sense into Lucky. Let them in."

Marco didn't move. "Lucky said—"

"Let them in," Viktor said again. His voice was a stiff growl, leaving no room for argument.

Marco seemed to understand this. Swallowing hard, he stepped aside, watching Declan and Twist enter the den with hungry, suspicious eyes.

Inside, Lucky was pacing. He glanced up as they slid into the den, taking up positions next to Kite. "Oh, good," he said dryly. "I was wondering who they would bring in next to scold me. I had betted on Flint next but I suppose he is too busy seeing to our youngest member."

"Is something wrong with Hazel?" Twist asked sharply.

Lucky shook his head. "That is talk for another time. Right now, I assume you are here to demand an explanation from me. Do you not wish to know why it is that I do not allow the Claws to hunt here? Or why it is that I allow them to eat all our prey without working at all, despite the fact that goes against everything I have shown before? Do you now wish for me to explain myself completely, pouring myself and my blood over these stones until they run red?" He lashed his claws out, scoring a quartet of lines through the pale stone; judging by the other clawmarks, this was not the first time he'd done that.

Declan and Twist shared an uneasy look.

Lucky caught that. His black eyes softened, but only barely. "I am sorry. I do not mean to be cross with you. Not you two of all cats. I must admit—and this might come off as 'mushy' as Viktor puts it—but I do trust you two completely. You know better than I the horror that the Claws enforced over their captives. I understand that horror still continues, does it not, Declan?"

Declan stiffened next to Twist. "Sometimes," he said through unmoving lips. "Sometimes I wake up and still think I'm there. It's hard but I can manage it."

Twist narrowed her eyes, not wanting to listen to the suspicious voices whispering in her mind. She trusted Declan. That was it. Nothing more was needed.

Lucky nodded. "I am truly sorry that I did not act sooner to release you two from their captivity. I regret it every time I look at the pair of you." He put his head to the side, blinking quickly. "It makes me wonder if love is truly born out of mutual affection or if it is pressured by circumstances. Do you think you would still have fallen in love with each other if you had never been captured by the Claws?"

"Yes," Declan said immediately, before Twist could have even opened her mouth. "Absolutely."

Lucky turned to Twist and she felt that familiar dull pang in her belly that she'd come to identify as embarrassment. "Yes," she said softly. Declan leaned into her shoulder, purring so softly only she could hear him. "But I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she went on sharply, more businesslike.

Lucky chuckled. "Just my own musing, I am afraid. I just wanted to change the subject but it appears that is impossible."

"You can't keep dodging answers, Lucky," Kite said, speaking up for the first time. Her voice didn't tremble and her eyes didn't move from Lucky's face. Twist had always admired her, the soft she-cat who was not so soft when it mattered. She was the perfect match for Viktor.

Lucky sighed heavily, sitting down on the ground. His tail flipped back and forth for a moment as he thought. "I know," he said softly. "But I wish that I could. I do not wish to admit the darkest most secret parts of my heart to others. My mother—I mean, Wisp—taught me to guard myself at all costs. It pains me to have to speak of my own personal state of mind. I am sorry."

"That's not an answer, Lucky," Viktor said gruffly.

For a long moment, Lucky didn't answer. Then he bowed his head forward, his eyes falling shut. In the beautiful half-light of the dawning green-season, his fur was slicked with a bright golden halo, making him seem less of the cat half in shadow Twist had always thought he was and more like one of sunlight.

"I am afraid," he whispered, sounding utterly broken, his eyes searching the ground in front of him as if looking for answers in the sand. "I am afraid that I am leading the Sliders to ruin. I am afraid because they might turn to hate me. I am afraid because I can no longer tell the difference between right and wrong. Is it wrong to wish the Sliders would get along with the Claws? Is it wrong that I think this despite the fact that I cannot forgive the Claws for what they did to me and my friends? I can no longer tell the difference. I wish that someone else would take over this job. I do not want to be the leader anymore. Not if I am hated and rejected like this."

Twist could only gape at him. She couldn't even find any words, not a single one, to say to Lucky.

Viktor found his voice first. "Don't be a moron," he snarled. "You're the only one who can lead the Sliders. You're our leader, Lucky. No one else."

Lucky glanced up at him sidelong, his eyes half-lidded. "You wanted to be the leader once, Viktor," he said in a low voice. "You fought me for it. The first fight I had ever participated in. I lost, do you remember? You won the title of the leader. You wanted to be the leader. Do you not hold similar sentiments now?"

Viktor stood his ground. "No. I won't take over the Sliders. Not now, not ever. You're not going to back me into a corner like this."

Lucky straightened a bit more even though his voice didn't change. "I do not wish to pressure you."

"What a lie." Now Kite came to her mate's defense. She curled her tail around him, dwarfed by his massive size. "You're trying to force this stress onto someone else instead of dealing with it directly. Just face it, Lucky: things have gotten tough. No one expects you to be perfect. Every leader has problems with his group. It's the ones that stick around when it gets hard that prove themselves to be the best leaders."

He stared at her for a moment longer before dropping his eyes to the ground again, chuckling once. "As usual, you are correct, Kite. I wonder why it is that I never request your advice often. Surely it is the best type of advice in the Sliders."

"Is it," Viktor said.

Twist smirked a bit at that before she could help herself. Just like big tough Viktor to come to his mate's defense, just like Kite had for him moments before.

"Then what shall I do?" Lucky asked. "Shall I ask the Claws to leave us? After all, if they are being tracked by the killer, his attention will be drawn to their current location. I refuse to allow any other Sliders die on my watch."

Twist felt more heartened as he spoke. He was sounding more like his old self, not that curled self-doubting Lucky he'd showed them. It was so easy to see the strength in his dark eyes when he was being protective over his cats.

"That decision is yours," Viktor said. "We'll stand with you whatever you choose. You know that."

"That's right," Twist said. "The others will come around to it. Don't worry about them for now. They'll follow you to the end of the world if you asked them to. After the battle with the Claws, you've won their loyalty."

"Perhaps," Lucky mused. "But perhaps there are ones who would rather lead."

"I don't know of any of those," Declan said honestly.

Watching Declan for a moment longer, Lucky hummed noncommittally. "Okay. I have made my decision. You all can go back to whatever you were doing before you decided I needed this…intervention."

Twist snorted, seeing Kite and Viktor having the same reaction. Declan, however, remained solidly in place, not even twitching his whiskers. His face was oddly stiff, as if he'd been scared by something. But then the next moment, he snapped out of it, turning his eyes to hers, the warmth in them the same as ever.

Twist shook her head.

A cat came flying into the den like a flash of golden fire. It took Twist a moment to realize it was Kaltag, running past them and leaping down into the mouth of the den as if he was racing for his life.

Declan and Twist shared one startled look before turning to follow him back in, feeling Max and Marco at her heels.

"—leapt on top of Sorrow and managed to dig out a line of her fur," Kaltag was saying, his breath uneven and shallow. He swallowed, heaving for air for a moment, before continuing. "We managed to capture him before he escaped and now we have him pinned. Do you want to talk to him?"

Lucky's fur was up in a line from his neck to his tail, his eyes sparking with anger. His voice was cool and controlled as he said, "Yes, that would be nice. If you would accompany me, Viktor, Kite?" Then he swooped around like a hawk and took off up the entrance, leaving everyone to follow him.

At first, Twist didn't even notice the ball of bloodied fur trapped beneath River's huge paws. Her eyes were drawn to Sorrow, who was yowling and spitting curses, leaping around in a circle and swearing her vengeance upon whoever had hurt her. Twist started back with a jolt of fear at the words coming out of her mouth.

"Peace, Sorrow." Lucky's voice was soft but commanding. "You will burn the ears of those younger than you."

Sorrow halted, her fur still up. A trickle of blood ran from her throat into the soft white fur of her chest, sopping up into the silky strands of hair. "Lucky," she said through gritted teeth. "Explain this." She jerked her tail towards River again, to that pile of fur, which Twist now understood was the cat who had attacked.

"River, let him up," Lucky said, striding closer. To the enemy, he said, "If you try to run, I will let Sorrow chase you. She will chase you. She will catch you. And you will be very, very sorry."

The cat hissed viciously, wordless in his fury.

River moved back and the cat sprang to his paws, holding a front one up to his chest. He had a splashed ginger-and-white pelt, with orange paws and a large spot over one eye. His eyes were yellow, hard like flint, and completely and solidly cold, as if carved from golden ice.

"Your name?" Lucky prompted.

"What does it matter?" the cat muttered, fur bristling. "I'm not going to get a fair trial for anything. No one will believe my story."

"That depends on how well you tell it," Lucky said.

By now, the entirety of the Sliders and Claws had gathered, forming a loose semicircle around the tom. Twist held back, feeling Vivian come up beside her, Declan on her other side. Directly across from her was Dahlia, staring at the tom with open shock, as if she'd never seen anything like him before in her life. Twist felt the familiar gut-twisting surge of hatred at the sight of the she-cat, something she was sure would never fade or weaken in intensity.

The tom huffed wildly, nearly unbalancing himself. "I know about you," he said darkly. "You foul, loathsome beasts. You're nothing like cats at all. You're all monsters inside, hiding behind innocent faces and words. I despise you. I wish you all dead."

Lucky's eyes widened. "Well, if you were going for sympathy, I am afraid that is not the best strategy."

"Not you," the tom spat. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to _them_!" He lashed out with a forepaw in the direction of the Claws, vicious hatred in every line of his body. "The ones with eyes that don't match. They're just as off as their spirits. They're all bloodthirsty savages who only have cat bodies. Inside, they're just dark-hearted monsters who'll go after anyone who crosses them."

Twist gaped. _Marked cats? Those are the ones he fears?_

"And not just them," the cat went on, as if reading Twist's thoughts. "It's her, too. That one. The one I nearly got. The one I wish I had." His eyes latched onto Sorrow with a hungry sort of loathing.

Sorrow drew her lips back from her teeth, hissing furiously. "You pathetic little worm," she snarled. "You think you could have killed me in a fair fight?"

"I wasn't intending on making it fair," the tom said coldly, "as your kind don't usually make your fights fair, do you?"

That silenced Sorrow. She just glared at him, half-twisted away from him. Sparrow at her side was watching the tom with open hatred.

Lucky said, "So you are the one who has been killing my cats? All for this strange obsession with eye color?" Twist could tell he was nervous—his legs were shaking—but he hid it well. It must have had a lot of practice, she thought, with a mentor like Wisp.

The tom smirked; the gesture drew up one lip more than the other, exposing a chipped fang. "If only. This was my first mission. I was aiming to kill the silver she-cat with one eye. Those were my orders."

"Given by whom?" Lucky asked politely.

The tom laughed once, hard. "I think I've said enough. I won't speak again—not to you, not to anyone. There's more to come—many, many more than me. And they'll all be after you split-eyed monsters. They know that you live here now and they won't rest until every single one of you is dead. This is the last time I will speak. You might as well kill me. You can kill me but you won't kill what's driving me."

"Unfortunately for you, that will be the case if you do not contribute anymore," Lucky said, surprising Twist.

_He must be bluffing. _As much as she understood Lucky's fear of this cat, there was no way he'd allow the tom to be killed. It just wasn't the Slider way.

Almost without thinking about it, Twist searched out Lightfoot in the crowd. The black-and-white she-cat was predictably close to the front, watching with greedy eyes. Twist knew she would agree to be the executioner without a second thought.

The tom remained standing, watching Lucky.

Lucky waited for a moment. "You really will not speak again?"

The tom lifted his chin arrogantly.

Lucky sighed heavily. "Very well. River, Kent, take him to the back corner of the Warren and prepare a den for him. He shall receive no food or water for two days. Give him no bedding and make sure his den faces the mountain wind. I want a guard posted on him at all times—switch it three times daily, and make sure to have loud conversations at all times. Do not let him sleep." Lucky narrowed his eyes to black slits. "If he will not speak, I will make him." Then he turned and strode away.

River and Kent obeyed him immediately, seizing the tom by either shoulder. The tom spit and hissed but did not speak, as he'd promised. They dragged him away, through the channel of parted cats, until the sounds of the tom's struggles faded into the distance.

Twist watched them go, a cold boiling hatred in her stomach. _So the murders were all connected after all, _she thought. _First Bronze, then Jaybird, then the Claws… Whoever this tom is working for is systematically killing every cat with marked eyes._

She felt a burst of fear for the Sliders that had marked eyes. Kaltag, Declan's friend, came first to her mind. He was a sweet young tom, breaking his back to prove himself to Lucky. But he could just as easily be targeted just for having the wrong eye color. It was sickening.

Declan whispered, "How could this be happening? We have a group of new rogues in the forest watching us?"

Twist shook her head. "I don't know. It's so confusing. I don't know what to think about this except that I want these cats found before they can hurt anyone."

Declan let out a distressed sound. "But what about hunting now? Wait," he said suddenly, his eyes widening. "Do you think Lucky knew about this?"

Twist turned to face him. "What?"

"About the cat killing marked cats. I mean, he hasn't had the Claws out hunting since they've been here. I've always thought that was kind of weird but what if he had a reason for it? What if _this_ is the reason?"

Twist didn't know what to think about that either. Sighing heavily and dropping to her hindquarters, she said, "I don't know. I wouldn't put it past him but he should have talked to someone about it. If not us, then _someone."_

"Maybe he has," Declan suggested. "After all, he can't only confide in one cat. Usually that cat seems to be Viktor but what if it's someone else?"

"Flint?"

"I don't know. Maybe." One ear dropped to the side. "Do you think we could ask him about it?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't that be weird?" Twist couldn't imagine having a normal conversation with Flint, not anymore. While he'd always been flighty and nervous, he'd been pushing that all behind a cold mask recently, even more as of late. She couldn't tell what he was thinking ever, not even when he was talking about something benign like the weather or Hazel's growth.

Declan let out a long breath. "I don't know. I guess Lucky will tell us eventually, right?" Then he pressed his muzzle to her cheek. "We'll be safe. We're not marked. I know that sounds horrible and selfish or something but it's true. I couldn't bear to think of you getting hurt."

"You won't have to worry about that," Twist said, very businesslike still, her thoughts on Flint and marked eyes and Lucky. "I think we should go see Audrey, though. She might not know what's going on. And…marked cats are more important to her," she added softly.

Declan let out an unhappy sound, his head sinking below his shoulders. "I don't want to worry her. She already seems very distant lately. I wonder if it's because of Hazel getting older or something else. I'm afraid for her."

"The only way to know what's up with her is to ask," Twist said briskly. "Come on, let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The entrance to the healing den was blocked by several cats, all pressing in for a look. Twist, confused as their sudden gathering, assumed they were discussing the latest development with their new prisoner.

But as she and Declan approached, they fell silent, turning to stare.

"Is…is there a problem?" Twist wanted to sound nonchalant but their singular intensity made it difficult.

Lightfoot, who was among the crowd, slid out of it silkily and padded up to Twist's side. "Inside," she said simply.

Twist obeyed, now growing more nervous because of Lightfoot's solemnity. Of all cats, Lightfoot would not be caught dead being silently upset about something.

"Is it Hazel?" Declan demanded. "Is she okay?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Lightfoot snapped. "Inside. _Now_."

The cats parted for them, still quiet as falling leaves. Vivian, Gravel, Max, and Marco stood closest to them, watching with wide eyes. Streak and his littermates were next to them; Streak in particular looked distressed beyond anything Twist had ever seen. It made her immediately want to lick his ears and soothe him but whatever was happening in the den was a more pressing matter.

Lucky and Flint were inside, Amber facing the wall behind them. Twist could see Audrey's ginger pelt, glinting dully in the light.

"What's wrong?" Twist gasped, flying to Audrey's side. "Is it Hazel? Her fever, is she—"

Audrey was curled around Hazel and the little scrap was sleeping peacefully. Twist felt all the air go out of her lungs in one heaving sweep, relief trickling through her veins the next instant. Hazel was okay. She wasn't…dying—it hurt to even think the word.

Then what was the problem?

"Twist, Declan," Lucky said, in his slow even tone. "There has been…a problematic development."

Declan, who had been looking between Flint and Lucky with blank eyes, said, "I don't understand."

Lucky bent his head forward, as if he'd expected that. "Audrey."

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Audrey stood, nudging Hazel onto her tiny white paws. The little kit let out a mew of protest, toddling around to face her mother, her mouth and eyes open wide…

Twist felt a sickening, icy plunge of horror. The air around her seemed to freeze immediately, stiffening until she couldn't even blink.

Hazel's kit-blue eyes had faded to their real color.

_Colors._

One blue, one yellow.

_Marked,_ Twist thought. _Just like Snit. Oh, Audrey, what have you done?_

"It appears," Lucky said slowly, "that we need a new plan."

* * *

><p><strong>OH MY GOSH. Plot is happening. Can you believe it? <strong>

**Man, I missed writing this story. The whole time I was doing NaNo, I kept thinking of new plot twists and stuff for this one. It was really quite sad.**

**But I submitted to my first lit journal yesterdaaaaay~! Here's hoping I actually get published in it. How could would that be? A publication credit...one step closer to being a novelist...**

**And then I can eat all the nutella I want! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. -wheeze-**

**Seriously, though, that stuff is amazing. My school just opened up a crepe place in our student union and it is DELICIOUS. I totally blew my entire week's money on it last week buying crepes. They have - get this - a strawberry/nutella cheesecake crepe. And they make it right in front of you. And they use a whole slice of cheesecake. And then, when it's done and you're basically drooling over it, they ask how much nutella, powdered sugar, and whipped cream you want. They even put it in this cute little cone-looking thing so you can eat and walk LIKE A BAWSS. **

**I'm totally gonna become a whale because of crepes. Srsly.**

**Anyway, enough chatter. My winter break starts next week, basically, since all my exams are online (THANK YOU, GOD), so I should have pretty regular updates from now on. I was thinking about setting a deadline for myself, like an update every Saturday or something, but I haven't nailed it all down yet.**

**Right. So...**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	11. Mind and Emotion

**This chapter is like 1K shorter than all of my other ones. It felt dragged from my fingers, like it took physical effort. I don't know why that is but I hope it didn't turn out like crap. XD**

**Anyway.**

**Onto the story~!**

* * *

><p>Audrey was inconsolable. She lay curled around Hazel still, her eyes on nothing. The little kit squirmed and wiggled, mewing the whole time. Her bright marked eyes flashed up to every face, as if wondering why everyone couldn't take their eyes off of her.<p>

Declan was the first to break the silence. "What are we going to do?"

Lucky sighed. "I do not know. Now that this strange cat has attacked us, we must believe him when he says more will come. There is no doubt in my mind that this attack will occur again but next time, someone might be seriously hurt."

"More seriously than me?" Sorrow growled, stepping up behind them. She had just come from Flint and Amber's treating area and now there was a spatter of herbs around the slice on her neck. Declan could smell the strength of them even from across the den. Twisting her neck to the side, she displayed the raw, angry pink flesh there, still seeping blood. "If I hadn't been quick to dodge, he would have sliced right through me."

"And what a shame that would be," Lightfoot said sarcastically.

Sorrow wheeled on her. "Don't make me regret something, dog-heart. I'll tear you to pieces."

Lightfoot's eyes narrowed to elegant, deadly slants. "Regret? I don't understand that concept."

"Enough." Lucky's voice was an impatient snap. "I do not want any internal fighting when we have a threat already at our throats!"

Sorrow growled, her teeth bared. "I don't appreciate this treatment, Lucky. I thought you said the Claws would be treated with respect, not this rubbish. I don't have to stand here and take this."

"I never said any of that. I said that I would keep the Claws safe, as is due to you as fellow cats. However," he went on, his voice darkening. "I will not continue to keep you above my own cats. I was trying to do the right thing but I was only letting my own suffer."

Sorrow hissed. "Are you serious? Even after you just heard that psycho say he would kill any of us with marked eyes? That's all of my cats, Lucky, except for about five. There are only twelve of us left. We have to stay here or we'll die."

Lucky turned his face away. "I am sorry, Sorrow. I tried my best to protect you but the Claws are not my duty. I do not have to help you. I only did so because I was trying to make up for what my brother did."

Suddenly, Sorrow's remaining eye went very wide. "What…what are you saying? You're going to make us leave?"

Declan, though he still detested Sorrow, said, "Lucky, you can't do that. They'll die."

Lucky shook his head. "It is far too dangerous for them to remain here. Do you want the killers to come and kill us, too? What about your friend Kaltag, Declan? What about Hazel? You wish for her to be in danger because of cats that were our enemies two seasons ago?" Lucky was breathing heavily now, as if he'd been running, his eyes wide and very dark. He looked half-mad. "I do not wish for us to die because of twelve Claws that would have killed us when our backs were turned!"

Declan heard himself gasp as if at a distance.

"I swore to you that we would be loyal to you, Lucky!" Sorrow screeched, the fur along her spine standing up at once. Her claws slid out of their sheaths as she gripped the ground as if to keep herself from falling over. "We would never betray you when we owe you so much!"

The sound was so loud that Hazel started up a wail, her tiny voice pitiful in the tense air. Audrey went about trying to shush her but she would not be appeased.

"How could you do this to us, Lucky?" Sorrow demanded roughly. "How can you send us away when we've done nothing wrong?"

"Nothing?" Lucky's eyes flashed dangerously, like dancing shadows. Twist left out a stifled gasp but Declan felt paralyzed, transfixed, by the scene unfolding in front of him. "Nothing? You dare to say that to me, Sorrow? If our positions were switched, you would have killed me before I even got into your camp! If not for me, you would have been on your way a long time ago instead of sitting in my camp, growing fat and happy on the prey you did not have to catch! I have kept you safe, kept you protected, despite my common sense and better judgment. Despite the fact that my cats have hated me for it! And you _dare _to come to me and say that I _owe _you something? You are wrong, Sorrow. The only thing that ties you and I together is shared blood, as you told me when I allowed you here. Shared bitter blood. And that tie is not strong enough to make me forget what you have done."

The air was ringing after he was completed. He was still livid, the fury still on his face and in every line of his tense body. Declan had never seen him so incensed, not even at the battle between the Sliders and the Claws. He was beyond anger, somewhere far, far beyond anyone's reach.

Sorrow said quietly, "So I assume this means you will not shelter us here any longer. Am I correct?"

There was a heavy moment of absolute silence. Not even Hazel made a sound.

Then Lucky's head came up. "Yes," he said, just as quietly.

Sorrow nodded to herself then, as if in acknowledgement. "Well," she said calmly. "That about sums it up, doesn't it? Excuse me. I must go speak with my cats." She turned and walked towards the entrance.

Lightfoot, who had taken up guard there, just stood, watching with stunned eyes. Declan had never seen her look lost for words before. It made him feel very, desperately confused, as if he'd forgotten why he was here.

Sorrow stopped in front of her. "Pardon me."

Lightfoot looked past Sorrow to Lucky. He was watching, too, his face as impassive as stone. He made no motion at all, none. Cold and unmoving as stone.

Lightfoot stepped aside; Sorrow went up the tunnel and vanished, leaving them alone in the den.

Lucky fell back at once, staggering backwards until he hit the wall. Losing his footing, he slid half to his side, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes stared at nothing as he panted, his shoulders shaking with the effort. "There," he said brokenly. "There."

Declan watched him, unaware that Lightfoot had moved until her shoulder brushed his.

Without looking around, she said, "You should go. Take Audrey and the kit to your den. I'll take care of Lucky." When Declan didn't say anything, she turned on him, her green eyes feral. "Well? Didn't you hear me? I said get going!"

Twist said, "Come on, Declan." She bent to Audrey's side and took Hazel gently in her jaws; the little scrap hung softly there, her little legs and tail dangling. She opened her round marked eyes and mewled softly.

"Shh, shh, sweetheart," Declan whispered, nuzzling her quickly, his actions too frantic to be soothing. "Nothing's going to hurt you."

Audrey stood slowly, her legs shaking. She turned to look at Lucky, who was talking quietly and rapidly with Lightfoot, then turned away again. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment and a pained look crossed her face.

_It must be hard to see the leader you've had for so long speak that way, _Declan thought, standing aside to let Audrey go first. _It's hard enough for me and I haven't known Lucky for nearly as long._

They waited for so long in the den, hiding in the darkness like cowering rabbits. Outside, Declan could hear the sounds of cats walking by, hushed words exchanged from those running by, the rumors already being tossed around like leaves in the wind.

Twist sat close to Audrey. Her shoulders were hunched miserably forward, her eyes half-closed. Every so often, her ears would swivel up to listen as someone said something, as the word spread through the Warren that the Claws were being exiled.

As time passed, she would glance up at him, sending him wordless messages across the silence.

_ How did this happen?_

_ Why did Lucky turn so suddenly?_

_ What's going to happen to us?_

And Declan didn't know how to respond to any of those questions. Secretly, within the deepest parts of his heart, he was relieved that the Claws were leaving. They were a threat, a dark cloud, a constant reminder of what had happened to him. The shadow of the Rogue and Braiser still lingered within his mind, just behind his closed eyelids. All he needed to do was simply dream to make them appear, more lifelike and monstrous than in his waking thoughts.

Audrey filled the space with her soft voice, whispered sweet words to Hazel too low for Declan to hear. The love on her face was so tender. Declan felt a rush of warm affection for Audrey and Hazel both.

And besides, Hazel didn't have a father—not one that she would have wanted, anyway. It was up to Declan to make up for that. He would be everything for her that her real father wouldn't.

Twist drifted to his side. Bending her head close, she said, "I think I heard Lucky speaking. Should we go see?"

"Okay." Declan stood. "Audrey, we'll be right back, okay? Stay inside." He didn't know if the Claws would try anything violent in revenge for this dismissal. It would be stupid for them to try to plan an attack when the Sliders vastly outnumbered them but he could never put anything past Sorrow. She was the cleverest cat he'd ever met—more even that Lucky, he thought sometimes. Who knew if she had something hidden just out of sight?

But she didn't.

Sorrow stood with the rest of the Claws, back arched and claws unsheathed. Sparrow at her side was looking at Lucky with raw betrayal, hurt in every line of his face, so much softer than his sister's.

Lucky stood atop a machine paw just in front of them, flanked by two wings of Sliders on either side. He was calmer now, the fire died down from his eyes, but the tip of his tail twitched back and forth endlessly. He was restless, Declan could tell. His eyes did not move from Sorrow's.

"So this is when you pass judgment on us?" Sorrow hissed up at him, her eye narrowed against the dying light of the sunset. "This is the final word?"

Face completely impassive, just like the cat he used to be so many seasons ago, Lucky looked carved from stone. Only the glint of his nearly black eyes showed that he even lived. "Yes," he said, his mew deep and rich. "It is. Leave this place, Sorrow. I have sheltered the Claws for far longer than I should have. It is now time for you to move onto safer grounds—for you and for us."

"You'd give up on us just because of our eye color? What about those of us who aren't marked?"

"Still trying to save yourself, Sorrow?" Lucky asked lightly, getting a furious snarl from her in response. "How very like your father."

She recoiled as if she'd been stung. Then, with a viciously narrow expression, she spat, "Your relation with my father grows stronger every day, Lucky. Sending us away like this, knowing we'll die if left unprotected with such small numbers. My father would approve."

Viktor growled from Lucky's flank but Lucky silenced him with a raised paw. Glaring at Sorrow, Viktor agreed, pulling back away from his aggressive stance.

"I will be merciful," Lucky continued. "The kit whom you brought with you here is old enough to survive on his own. I will allow him to stay."

Sorrow's eye flashed. "And his mother?"

There was a short pause.

"Just the kit," Lucky said finally. "And Amber, your healer, to watch after him."

The reedy she-cat standing behind Sorrow looked hopeful. "Sorrow," she whispered, just within Declan's hearing range. "Please agree. My son, he can stay here and be safe—"

Sorrow cut her off with a hiss. "No," she snarled, whipping around to face Lucky again. Her back arched as she kneaded the ground. "If you will not take all of us, you will not take our kit. He is the last of his breed. He will be the one to help us return to our former numbers." Her head lowered and she growled gutturally, "And then we will return. The Claws will come back and fight you for this, Lucky."

River, who was standing next to Willow, laughed loudly. "Yes, because that worked out so well for you last time."

Sorrow didn't even spare him a glance. In the half-light of the fading day, she looked as imperious as always, her sly, deadly beauty not diminished by the strength of the hate in her eyes. Her stance was strong, powerful, a leader's stance. Declan couldn't help admiring her courage, facing down such a large group of now-enemies with no one at her back but a pawful of ragged cats half out of their minds with terror.

"Fine, then," Sorrow spat. "But if I'm leaving, I'll take any other cats with me. The marked ones." Her eyes swept coldly across the watching group, cutting across those who didn't meet her mark. "I want the ones I had before. The ones that were my guards."

"No," Lucky said. "They are no longer yours. They only belonged to you because of trickery."

"But they still are marked. How do they know you won't turn on them, too?" Looking away from Lucky, she seized on Kaltag. "You. I remember you. You worked with my father, didn't you?"

"I-I want nothing to d-do with any of you!" Kaltag said. His fur was fluffed up with fear.

A cruel smirk twisted Sorrow's lips. "That is not what I asked, is it? How do you know Lucky won't throw you out, too, just because you're marked? And there are a few others—no longer Jaybird, clearly, but I know of some more. Shot, that scrawny white tom, and Felix. And I want Petey and Slash."

"You'll get none of them!" River snarled. Now he stepped forward away from Willow, who tried to hold him back, and went close to Sorrow. "We'll protect our own! You're nothing to us! I never wanted you to be here in the first place and now that you're leaving, we can all breathe easily. The Claws are no longer our concern!"

Sorrow's face darkened. She opened her mouth to say more but Lucky cut her off.

"River, that is enough. This has gone on for too long now. It is time to end this." Lucky jerked his chin forward and a group of cats flowed forward, circling the Claws, pushing them gently into a circle. Lightfoot, who was in the lead, was lacking in her normal violence-induced glee. Solemn-faced, she eased the only queen—whose face had become so heartbreakingly crestfallen that Declan felt his heart squeeze painfully—to her feet, nudging the kit along.

Sorrow circled back around and swatted Lightfoot's paws away. "Keep back," she spat. "You're in the presence of the future ruler of the Claws."

Lightfoot scoffed but retracted her paw. "This little scrap?"

"This scrap," Sorrow said, looping her paw around his small shoulders and drawing him close, "is my little brother. The last kit of my father, the Master of this forest."

Declan felt a jolt of shock course through his body, holding him fast to the ground.

Lucky growled softly, "You never mentioned that."

"I hardly was going to tell you if we were allies." She tossed her head over her shoulder, eye narrowed elegantly. "You might have wanted to kill him for having the same blood as your hated enemies. As yourself. As me." She licked her lips. "Now you will know he exists and that I have him. I will train him to find these cats that are after us. And after we kill all of them, we'll come for you."

An agonizing burst of fear shot through Declan's chest. Twist at his side had on the blank expression she used when she was hiding her real emotion but her whiskers were trembling. He leaned into her shoulder but she didn't move even then: her eyes were fixed on the kit.

Lucky, to his credit, didn't back down. "Then I will await your return, Sorrow, with the knowledge that we are once again enemies."

As she was forced out of the Warren, Sorrow called back, "We never stopped being enemies, Lucky."

And then they were gone.

Lucky waited a moment until the group escorting the Claws returned before simply turning around and walking away. Declan half-wanted to follow him but decided against it. He disliked how much he'd relied on Lucky recently—especially how much Twist seemed to crave Lucky's words. It frightened him to think of how deeply they were entrenched with the Sliders. Even though they'd thrown in with the group for so long they were deeply loyal to it, the thought of having another war terrified Declan. He'd thought he'd lose Twist in the last battle—here was that same threat again.

Would it have been easier if Lucky had kept the Claws here? Now that the number of marked cats had gone down, would the killers really leave them alone? And what about those marked Sliders? Would Lucky keep them forever inside the Warren and not allow them out?

And what about Hazel? Was that poor kit going to live a life trapped like a caged bird?

Audrey was resting when they got back to the den. Twist and Declan curled up together, keeping close for warmth, as the night wore on. It kept Declan awake, the fear gnawing a hole in his belly. Even the soft scent of Hazel wasn't enough to convince him of her safety. She was his responsibility now and he had to keep her safe, no matter what that entailed. If he had to, he would sacrifice everything to keep her and Twist safe—even his own life.

Audrey's breathing was unsteady, making Declan wonder if he wasn't the only one kept awake by endless worries.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning was cold and misty. Declan wondered if that was a sign that something horrible had happened.

Twist was already awake, sitting at the den's mouth, staring out into the dewy morning. She didn't turn around as he came up behind her, nuzzling her neck. "Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked softly.

Declan rubbed his cheek against her shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper against his fur. "I really don't."

"I never wanted the Claws to be here. But now that they're gone, I can't shake the feeling that this was wrong."

"Mm." Declan felt a pang of concern in his belly. "I don't know what to do to fix it."

Twist's voice was nearly unintelligible as she replied, "Neither do I." She turned and met his eyes, anguish in her yellow gaze. "And that kit, Declan. What about him? They took him into a warzone when he could have stayed here with us."

He sighed. The thought of that kit hadn't even crossed his mind. "Sorrow will make sure he's safe."

As if she hadn't heard him, Twist said, "How could the Rogue have had another kit? He was so young. The Rogue's been dead for over two seasons."

"That kit was that old. Perhaps the Rogue didn't even know the kit's mother was expecting before he died." He rested his head atop hers. "Don't worry, okay? There's nothing to be done. Worry about Hazel for now. We can do something about her."

Twist snuggled against his chest. "I know." He could feel her breath warming his skin. "But I still can't help it. When I looked at him, I saw Hazel. Was that kit even marked?"

Declan shook his head. "I never saw."

"Hmm." Twist sank deeper into his chest fur, sighing. "It's awful. This whole thing. Sorrow turning on Lucky again. Who was right in this situation? Lucky, for getting rid of the threat to the Sliders? Or the Claws for swearing revenge on us? I can't tell."

Declan didn't know what to say. He licked her ear, trying to soothe her while comforting himself in her scent. "We need to focus on what we have now. Worrying about the Claws is pointless now until they make a move."

Twist huffed. "I hate it when you're right," she said, a little teasing in her voice.

He laughed. "Don't worry. It doesn't happen that often."

Audrey woke up soon after and took Hazel down to a sunnier den, letting her totter around in the bright light there. Streak, who was passing by, stopped to play with her.

Leaving Hazel to Viktor's kit, Audrey drifted over to Declan's side. "Can I talk to you for a moment? It won't take long."

Twist and Declan exchanged a glance. "Sure," Twist said.

They found a spot beneath one of the overlaying metal pipes, far enough away to not be overheard while still remaining close to the playing kits.

"What's wrong, Audrey?" Declan asked gently.

The she-cat looked much worse for wear. Her fur was lank and lacked the shine she'd had a moon cycle ago when she'd been brought back to health. Eyes dull like stones, she seemed lifeless, empty, despite the vibrancy of her kit.

"I have…a secret." Audrey bent her head forward. "I don't want you to tell anyone. Not anybody. Promise."

"Audrey, what's wrong? You're—"

Audrey cut Twist off with a shake of her head. "Promise me!"

Reluctantly, Declan said, "I promise."

Audrey turned to Twist expectantly. Twist, after a moment of gritted teeth, said, "Fine."

Audrey's eyes drifted shut for a moment. Then she blinked them open and Declan saw a bit of her old spark there. "I know that cat. The one that tried to kill Sorrow."

Declan started to his feet before he could think twice. "What?" he gasped. "How…how could you? I mean, from _where?"_

Audrey looked miserable. "He was one of the cats that helped me during…well, after I ran away. I don't know his name but I know him. I wouldn't forget a face. He was always hanging around the leader of the bunch of cats in the area. A blackish tom. I only ever saw him once."

"You don't remember where?"

Audrey shook her head. "I remember where. But I'm not going to tell you that part."

Twist scoffed. "And why not, Audrey? We can go find the rest of them and get them before they get us!"

Suddenly passionate, Audrey said, eyes blazing, "Because I'm going to go there and kill the leader myself."

There was a moment of very tense silence.

"What?" Twist asked, her voice completely flat.

"You heard me." Audrey lifted her head, her ears brushing against the metal of the pipe. "I'm going to go kill him. He won't recognize me because I never hung around his group so I can get close without seeming suspicious. I can get right up close without him even knowing. And then it'll be too late for him."

Declan fixed his eyes on the playing kits for a moment. Streak was laying on his side, flicking out his brown-ringed tail for Hazel to chase. There was genuine adoration in his golden eyes as he watched the kit play.

"But, Audrey," Twist pleaded, now sounding desperate. "You can't do that. You'll risk your life for that?"

"For that? No. To protect my kit? Absolutely."

"You realize who you'd be putting in danger, right? Your kit's mother. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"It's not that horrible," Audrey said, now sounding a bit more snappish. "Because I'm not leaving her alone. I'm leaving her with you."

That got Declan's attention. He swung his head around to face her. "No. You're her mother. We're not her parents, Audrey."

"You're her guardians. You're the ones who would have taken over for me if I died anyway. This is just the same. I'll slip away and rejoin that group, getting just close enough, and then…"

"Yes, and then they'll kill you once you kill their leader," Twist said roughly. "Are you stupid?"

"Yes," Audrey snarled. "I guess I must be, because this is the only thing I can think of to do. I have literally no idea what else to do. How can I raise my kit to be the beautiful, wonderful she-cat I know she's going to be if I know eventually someone will kill her because of her eyes? Because of some stupid mistake that I made in selecting her father? How will I be able to live with _that, _Twist?" Her voice broke and she looked away quickly, over to where Hazel was standing atop Streak's shoulder, bouncing giddily. "How could I do that to her?" she went on, half-affectionately, half-brokenly. "I would be a failure as a mother."

"Audrey…" Declan had no words to comfort her.

She turned to him, her expression grateful. "I know what you're trying to do, Declan, and I appreciate it. I really do. But this is something I have to do."

"Impulsive and stupid as ever," Twist muttered, turning her head away.

Audrey purred. Striding closer, she bumped her forehead against Twist's, her purring increasing in volume. "Yup, afraid so. I'm glad that you put up with me, though. Thank you for what you've done so far. And thank you for what you'll do in the future."

"When will you leave?" Declan asked softly, sinking back down to his haunches.

Audrey pulled away from Twist. "Immediately."

Twist's head jerked up. "What about Hazel?"

Sighing softly, Audrey looked over to where her kit was now resting, draped across Streak's paws. Streak was washing her pelt with quick, gentle strokes of his tongue. As Declan watched, he yawned widely, dropping his chin down to rest atop the kit's back.

"She has friends…and you two. She'll grow up to be the happiest she-cat in the whole forest." Turning her head back, she added, "I'm holding you to that."

"You're acting like you won't ever see her again," Twist said, her voice sounding strangled.

"I might not." She sounded wistful. "But the moon cycle I've had with her has been the best I've ever had. She is so much like Snit. How much I wish she could have truly been his. When she asks, tell her he was brave. Tell her stories about him. Tell her that I think about her every day. Tell her I love her."

She started walking away, skirting the edge of the pipe, half-hidden among the shadows, but she stopped. Without turning around, she murmured, "I love you, Twist, Declan. You've been kinder friends to me than I deserve. I'll return and we'll all sit here again, watching the kits play. I promise you."

Then she took off running and did not look back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that night, after a long conversation with Lucky in which they registered their shock at Audrey's sudden departure and their genuine loss of her presence, they lay in their den. Hazel was with them, laying sleeping against Twist's chest. She was half-upside-down, one paw reaching skywards, the other curled against her chest. She wriggled a bit in her sleep restlessly and Twist soothed her with gentle lapping until she lay peacefully.

Declan sat at Twist's shoulder, watching Hazel with soft eyes. She was so beautiful. She would grow up to be strong—just like her mother. If she was half as brave as Audrey, she would be one of the strongest cats in the forest.

Twist stopped licking. "What are you thinking?"

Declan waited for a moment before answering. "How much I love you."

She laughed softly. "Now what were you _really _thinking?"

Pushing his head gently against hers, he whispered, "I'm afraid for her."

The soft whisper of the night breeze almost erased Twist's voice. "So am I. But we will protect her. You and I are unstoppable. Together, nothing will stand a chance. We won't let anything get in the way of her safety."

Declan closed his eyes. "I know. But I still just…"

Twist reached out with her paw and cover Declan's, gazing softly up into his eyes. "I know."

Curling down onto the ground, he reached out with the tips of his paws to brush against Hazel's soft fur. The touch alone comforted him; it was as if a solid piece of Audrey was left behind, a living talisman that she would try her best to protect what was hers. Audrey wouldn't fail. She didn't know how.

Sleep took them all and they rested peacefully, the soft breath of wind carrying them into gentle darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Ugh, that last line. Such a poignant moment ruined by cheesiness. Blah blah blah, whine whine whine. <strong>

**I'm in kinda a down mood today, I guess. I need some coffee. It's my new addiction now. I'm home for winter break so I tried to use my mom's coffee maker but her coffee tastes just like boiled water. I like to taste the coffee when I'm drinking coffee - is that so wrong? It took me four tries to get it right and I used up like half the bag of my Starbucks coffee. BLURBHRLUBHEL. Eventually, I got it right, though. So it was a happy ending.**

**Also. "The Scientist" by Coldplay? EXCELLENT song. Jussayin'. ;)**

**You know what to do.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	12. Seen and Obscured

**Hey, guys! Guess what I did between this update and last?**

**WROTE A FRICKIN' NOVEL.**

**That's right! 115K of beautiful, beautiful words. It was soooo rushed at the end, though-to make it in time for ABNA, you see-but it was so worth it. Aaaah! So now I've written three novels. The state of Novel 1 is: CRAP; Novel 2: dissected for parts; Novel 3: In severe need of editing.**

**So there's that. XD**

**Rapidfeather - Thanks! I hope you still like her after this chapter. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Yup! I'll use him a bit more throughout, too! ^.^ Hee! That is quite the possibility, isn't it? ;)**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - I'm glad that you feel conflicted about the Claws! I guess that means I did a good work-up to the whole deal. X3 And, yeah, I didn't mention about Hazel's whole need-to-eat kinda thing, so let's just assume another mother with kits took her. Yeah. XD**

**Tangleflame - Hmm, I dunno if Audrey will die. We'll see. X3**

**Viper3332 - Oh, wow, you reviewed like six times on this chapter. XD Well, I updated for you! Here you go! XD**

**Shadowmist1999 - Yup, Sidestep is an actual book. I ordered it using my NaNoWriMo credit through CreateSpace. As for having a copy for yourself, I dunno how you'd go about doing that. I suppose you could print it out using a super-huge printer or something. My friend Asa did that with some fics she liked. You can print it, book it, do whatever with it you want, as long as you don't, like, sell copies of it for money or something. XD**

**Monkey Csaw - Oh, no problem! I appreciate readers even if they don't review. It's just nice to know that people are actually reading, you know? XD Yeah, I love the vibe that Lucky and Lightfoot have. I might explain their relationship more fully but probably not. It's better to let readers assume what they will. Like, maybe Lightfoot always listens to Lucky because he saved her from a shark attack or something. Or maybe he broke her out of prison after a week-long catnip binge. XD I've noticed that a lot of the same reviewers move around to different stories! I like being able to recognize them whenever I rarely go to read other fics. XD**

**frostwingwarriorslover - Oh, hi, new reader! -waves- Welcome to the party! :D**

**Stormyleaf - Does she really? I haven't read a Warriors book since... -thinks hard- the first one of this new series. I don't think I'll read anymore but it's always nice to follow along with the plot to see where it goes. XD**

**Anonymous Angry Person - You really think that's the best way to get me to update? ;)**

**Okay, with that done and said, um...**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>"Alright," Hazel said, her eyes narrowed. Her haunches wriggled as she crouched closer to the ground, so close she could feel the dusty ground brushing against her white belly fur. Every muscle was tight with anticipation. "We're going to run straight in. Don't look back. If you fall behind, you're left behind." Her eyes cut to the side. "You got that, Catch?"<p>

Streak licked his lips. In the impending darkness, his white pelt looked less evident, like a smudge of pale shadow against the rowan bark. "Ready, Patch."

Hazel bared her teeth in pleasure. "Okay," she breathed, crouching lower. "Ready? One…two…three! _Go!" _she howled, running forward haphazardly, her tail scooting along the ground behind her.

Between her panting breaths, wild with exhilaration, she could hear Streak's paws behind her, pounding the ground. Her claws were unsheathed, ready at any moment for her spring into the air, fur catching in the strong wind, ready to sink into the flesh of the enemy who was sitting so close, unaware of the rushing danger…

Hazel hit Adder and he went down with a yowl of fright, his muzzle smacking into the ground with a loud, hard thud.

"Hazel!" he snapped, his head coming up. He glared at her, his eyes very intensely blue as usual. "You're such a kit! You didn't even let me—" This time Streak pounced him, bouncing off his back and bounding away, tail curling behind him.

Hazel sat down heavily, laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe. "You should have seen your face!" she got out when she was capable. "You didn't even see him coming!"

Adder curled his lip. His eyes went to his brother. "You're far too old for kit games, Streak. What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, come on, Adder. What's wrong with having some fun?" Streak's tongue was hanging out slightly as he panted, but his eyes were bright. They were yellow, like Twist's, but not as pretty. "I mean, I'm still young, aren't I?"

"Too old for those games," Adder repeated staunchly. He looked down his nose at Hazel. "And you. You shouldn't be this close to the gate."

"Uh-huh." Hazel was tired of everyone's worrying. It was all she ever heard. "Well, I'm not outside, am I?"

"Close enough." Adder whisked his tail across her nose, making her wince her eyes closed. "Now go away. _Actual_ members of the Sliders are trying to work."

"I am a member of the Sliders!" Hazel spat.

Adder rolled his eyes. "Not yet. You're still too young."

"Yeah, well, in two more moon cycles, you'll be saying something different."

"Well, come back to see me in two moon cycles and maybe I'll owe you some respect. Until then, kindly go away. And don't come back." Adder turned away stuffily, his nose in the air.

Hazel obeyed, though only out of fear he would tell Twist and Declan she was close to the outside. Once she was far enough out of sight, she hefted her nose into the air, walking with an exaggerated swagger in her step. "'Ooh, look at me. I'm Adder. I'm _so _much better than everyone else.'" She scoffed, scuffing the ground with her paw. "It's not fair."

"Unfortunately, life isn't fair." Streak caught up to her. If he was fazed by her mocking of his brother, he didn't say so. Matching his steps with hers, he added, "But it'll get better. Once you're ten moon cycles old, then you'll be a real member. And then you can do whatever you want."

"Like go outside?" She turned eagerly, waiting to see the expression on his face.

But he looked away, something uncomfortable in his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that's right."

Disappointed, Hazel asked, "Are you lying to me?"

He looked back, fondly this time. Nuzzling between her ears, he said, "No. We have a promise, remember?"

Of course she did. When she and Streak became friends so long ago it made her head fuzzy to think of it, they had sworn to never lie to each other. That was good enough for her, she told herself. After all, Streak was her best friend and best friends lasted forever—part two of their promise.

Still not fully appeased, Hazel flopped down on the ground right there. The wind was still blustery but it had the hot-season's warmth to it still. She closed her eyes, sighing heavily, her breath gusting along a few small dead leaves.

"Catch," she said without opening her eyes.

"Hmm?"

"What does the outside look like?" Now she opened her eyes to watch him, trying to dissect every bit of information she could from his expression.

Streak thought for a moment before he said, "It's very green. Most of the time. And it's rather loud. You can hear the sounds of the no-pelts from here, can't you?"

"Yeah, but it's really soft. Crashes and bangs and stuff like that." She couldn't imagine what they were doing out there, those mysterious creatures. Maybe they all went around stomping their feet and bumping off of metal things all day long.

"It's like that. And there are these machine things if you go far enough towards their territory. Other than that, it's all just trees."

"Do you climb them?" she asked.

He admitted, "I'm not very good at it. Adder and Violet are much better."

Hazel liked Streak sister Violet. She was quiet; it was very easy to pester her and she would never speak up against her. As for his other sister Whisper…it was an entirely different case. Hazel stayed away from her.

"What's up with all the questions?" he asked, affectionate patience in his eyes. "Something spark your curiosity all of a sudden?"

"I had a dream yesterday. I was hunting squirrels."

"You don't know what squirrels look like."

"I bet they're just like rats, only fluffier."

He laughed. Reaching out with a paw, he playfully scuffed her forehead between her ears. "Very true, my young pupil," he said, very seriously. "You could, honest to spirits, become the next great hunter with that: _Squirrels are like rats but fluffier."_

"Don't make fun of me!" She got to her paws, walked over to him, and pushed him over. Standing on his chest, she said, "I am going to be a great hunter! And then you'll be eating every single one of your words."

"Okay, Patch. I guess I'll wait for that day." He laid a forepaw across his head dramatically. "The day when the pupil surpasses the master. It will be quite a day to see, I'd imagine."

"You bet it will be. And take that stupid look off your face before it sticks like that." She pressed a paw to his cheek, pushing the skin up there until it forced his eye shut. She paused clinically and added, "Actually, that's a very good look for you. Very handsome. You'll get all the she-cats looking like this."

"I'm so sure," he said, his voice distorted. Bundling his hindpaws beneath him, he shoved her off into the air.

She twisted and landed neatly on all fours. Giddily proud of herself, she turned to tell him, her mouth open to speak, but he barreled her off her paws. She hit the ground on her side with an _oomph _of air, rolling aside when he struck again. Letting out a peal of laughter, she pounced on his back, biting his skin without the pressure to hurt, making him roll over again.

This was the best part of life, she thought to herself blissfully as they grew tired and lay on the ground. Hazel scooted over to rest her head on Streak's flank, purring.

Streak was her best friend ever. They did everything together. They played and trained and explored together. Declan and Twist still made her sleep in their den—like she was a kit!—but if they didn't, they could even live together. Hazel sighed at that idea.

"What's up?" Streak's voice was much deeper with her ear pressed to his side.

"I was thinking it would be great if we could have the same den."

"You shouldn't say things like that," he said, his voice sounding a bit embarrassed.

She rolled over, draping her forepaws over his flank. "Why not?"

Streak ruffled her ears with a forepaw. His eyes were patient and affectionate and very gold. "Because cats might get the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be?" she asked.

"You know. The not-the-meaning-you-mean meaning."

"What does that mean?"

Streak sighed. Laying his paw across her face heavily, he said, "You ask too many questions."

"Hmm." Hazel didn't know what he meant by that still. What could he be talking about? _Well, it must not be important, _she thought, her eyes drifting shut. After all, sleeping was just like napping, only longer.

When it got too late, Streak made her go back home. She didn't want to: she wanted to stay and play more, but she could tell that Streak was serious because he used her real name. So she went, unwillingly, dragging her paws, until they reached the split that divided them up: Streak went to the den he shared with Adder and she went up to the top of the den-place, to where Twist and Declan lived.

Twist wasn't home yet—she was probably out hunting—but Declan was there.

"I'm back," she said for greeting.

Declan stood. Purring, he touched his nose to hers. "How was your day?"

"It was okay." She flopped down in her corner; her nest was made completely of soft fluffy down feathers. They sank up to her eyes as she stretched out on her belly, her hind legs splayed behind her.

"What did you do?"

"Me and Streak hunting," she said.

"Hunted what?"

"Adder," she said mischievously. She turned her head to see Declan shaking his head slowly.

"You two get into so much trouble," he said. "Lucky's going to have to keep you busier to keep you in line."

"I wouldn't mind getting more things to do," she said. As it was, she only had to move bedding around. The hunters would bring it in and she'd divvy it up into piles. From there, another bunch of kits—_Young cats_, she corrected herself, preening—would come and take it away. There weren't many of them, just her, Owl and Spot, and the scrawny little gray kit named—of all things—Gray. Gray was too frail to lift anything but the lightest of bundles so he wasn't even any help.

Declan let out a hum of consideration. "I'll see if I can talk Lucky into letting you be a messenger. How about that?" He said this with a flourish, his green eyes sparkling.

In her mind, the image of herself, chest puffed out with importance, flashed. _Maybe I'll be relaying battle plans, _she thought ferociously. _Or maybe even death sentences! _"Okay!" she said.

As if he'd also been partial to her thoughts, he said, "You'd probably only be running between Flint and Lucky, you know."

She took this gracefully before saying indulgently, "Of course."

Declan was easier to appease with words than Twist was. With her, Hazel had to talk and talk until Twist was satisfied. Declan would be more open to having silences.

_Speaking of, _Hazel thought, detecting the light patter of Twist's steps at the den's entranceway. She lifted her head to see Twist enter, shaking off clinging leaves.

Declan went to her immediately, his tail high in the air. They touched noses, then pressed their foreheads together, closing their eyes and purring. They never even spoke. It was their usual custom.

"Shall I step outside and give you two a moment alone?" Hazel said, only half-teasing. As if she wanted to see two old cats nuzzling and cooing over each other. It was gross.

Twist broke apart without a whisker-twitch of embarrassment. "How nice it is to see you so perky, Hazel," she said, her slowed voice teasing. Hazel quirked an ear in response, looking away. "Ah, see, Declan," Twist said, leaning into his shoulder and pressing her cheek in his fur. "They grow up so fast. Now she'll be sneaking off and not speaking to us, trying to sort out her ever-growing list of kit problems."

"I'm not a kit," Hazel said immediately. "I'm eight moon cycles old. In two more, I'll—"

"Be a fully-fledged member of the Sliders," Declan finished for her, the light cadence of his voice surprisingly similar to her own. "Yes, we know. We're the ones who set it up, remember?"

"Yes," Hazel said. After a moment of rather shamed silence, she added, "Hello, Twist."

Twist purred softly. Bumping her snout against Hazel's head, she said, "Hello, scrap. Always in the best of moods, I see, when you're parted from that troublemaker Streak."

"Streak's not a troublemaker," she protested loyally.

Twist laughed once. She only ever laughed once. "I know. I'm just playing with you. Did you already eat? Are you hungry?"

"I ate with Streak."

"Did you eat enough? You need to make sure you're not hungry. In the coming moon cycles, you'll need the extra weight you can put on now. The hunting might not be as good."

"Is it bad normally?"

Twist and Declan shared a look. "Sometimes," Declan said, twitching his tail over her nose. "Lucky will make sure nothing bad happens."

Lucky always made sure bad things didn't happen. Or so everyone told her. It surely hadn't stopped her mother from leaving her.

But Hazel didn't bring that up to Twist. It always seemed to make Twist less likely to talk to her, to have a playful gleam in her eyes. Hazel thought Twist was a bit overbearing but she didn't want to hurt her feelings. After all, she was the closest thing Hazel had to a mother—not that she would ever tell her that.

Her mother had been pretty, they'd said. Not like her, though: she'd had ginger fur. Audrey was her name. She hadn't been seen since she'd dropped Hazel into Twist's paws and left. No one told the story like that, of course—no one told the story at all—so Hazel had to fill in the details herself. Streak had been there, too, so he knew what it was all about. He had been youngish but his memory had always been great, far better than Hazel's. It seemed she could get lost around the Warren if she didn't pay close enough attention. Streak had started to take different ways to exploit this weakness, his teasing quickly getting frustrating when he would mischievously stop giving her directions and leave her wandering in the box-nests forever.

Declan and Twist settled down to sleep in their corner and Hazel went back to hers. Collapsing in the downy nest, she kept her eyes open, watching the moonlight play across the bottom of the nest. It was peaceful, she thought, but she didn't want peace. She wanted adventure. And that wasn't going to happen with her just lying around in the den.

She got to her paws, casting a quick glance behind her to make sure Declan and Twist were sleeping. It was always easy to tell: Declan slept with his mouth half-open and Twist's paws would twitch. Pleased that they were already so deeply sleeping, Hazel stepped over Declan's trailing tail and out into the Warren.

The night air was crisper than it had been earlier. There still wasn't the bite to it that Declan told her would happen when it was almost the cold-season. Snow would come, then. That would be very exciting, Hazel thought.

She padded down the trail, trying her best to look like she belonged there. She didn't run into anyone but Violet, who nodded rather nervously to her. Accompanying her was the black tom Ren, who was always ready to play. He gave her a friendly flick of his tail as she passed, leaning in close to whisper something to Violet.

Streak was lying down with his eyes closed but he wasn't sleeping. He didn't sleep very well at night. Something about bad dreams, he'd told Hazel.

She poked him in the face.

He groaned. Cracking his eyes open, he said, "You should go back to your den, Patch."

"I want to go outside." She didn't even realize the words were true until they were already out of her mouth.

Streak jolted up. Shooting a glance to where Adder lay sleeping, he hissed, "You shouldn't say that kind of stuff around him. Come on." He bustled her outside, down the path, and around to a cleft in the box-nests where they wouldn't be overheard.

"What's wrong with that?" she whispered back. "Just a peek. No one will even see me."

"That's not the point," he said, sounding more severe than usual. "You can't go outside. It's…dangerous!"

"You told me it wasn't dangerous."

"Well… I may have downplayed it. The world is a very dangerous place. You should just go back up and go to sleep, okay?"

Hazel sighed. "Come _on, _Catch. I just want to take a look. I'll go by myself if you don't come with me."

"I'll tell Lucky," he warned.

She narrowed her eyes. "You won't," she declared.

He stood staunchly for a moment before his shoulders sank. "No," he agreed. "I won't. But it's not because I'm not worried about you."

"Just come with me," she pled. "I've never been outside. I just want a look."

Streak hesitated. She saw all she needed in that moment of wavering.

"Yes!" She bounced in a small circle, her tail waving. "Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Catch, I knew there was a reason that I love you!" She pressed her face against his, purring loudly.

"Yes, yes." His voice was muted, his fur spiked along his back. "Enough of that. One look and then we're back inside. Got it?"

"Got it!" She let out a little squeak of excitement. "Sorry. Wow. I'm really excited. Let's go. Let's go _now."_

Behind her, Streak let out a soft groan. "They are so going to have my tail for this one," he muttered. "Come on. Let's go see the glorious and highly overrated _outside."_

XXXXXXX

Outside wasn't overrated at all. It was _awesome._

Hazel couldn't stop staring. Standing in the center of the small place Streak had brought her, multicolored leaves hanging in beautiful patches above her head, she couldn't do anything but stare, her mouth half-open, as the majesty of it all filled her vision.

Streak was twitchy. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if he was expecting someone. But no one ever came outside at this time of night. They would be perfectly, beautifully free for these few moments.

Hazel bounced over to him. "I want to see water," she said.

"Water?" He flicked his tail, his eyes shifting to the ground. "Why?"

"I only ever see that shell thing in Flint's den. I want to see _natural _water." She spun in a tight circle, adrenaline making her head spin wonderfully. "Please? Please, please?"

Streak sighed and Hazel heard victory in the sound. "You're going to get me in trouble!"

"We can be quick," Hazel promised. She fell into step beside him, her side brushing his. Closing her eyes in blissful happiness, she trotted along, carefree.

Water, it turned out, was much larger than she had imagined.

The river ran full-force in front of her, churning gray and blue and white. Rocks poked up out of the center, like jagged teeth, and water poured into small whirlpools, set spinning with red and orange leaves.

Hazel looked at one of these very closely. Her reflection was very distorted here but she could still see the outline of her ears and face. In the bottom of the whirlpool was a small rock, twirling on end.

"Hey, look at this!" She looked up when Streak didn't respond.

He was standing atop a rock, the slope of his shoulders more alert than usual. His eyes were looking off in the distance, fixated on some point across the river. He struck an oddly-regal figure against the white moon sky, looking far older than Hazel ever thought him.

Then he looked down to her and he was her Streak again, light playing in his yellow eyes.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said look here."

He came obediently, his ears politely interested. But Hazel thought something was off about him. Why had he been so serious before?

She glanced over his shoulder as he inspected the whirlpool, looking in the direction he'd been staring. "Did you see something over there?"

"What?" he asked, but he had heard her.

Suspicious now, Hazel just said, "In the pool, I mean. Do you see the rock?" She watched his face closely.

"It's neat. The current does it, you know. The wind can do similar stuff with leaves." His expression was still open, friendly, but there was something hidden in his eyes that she didn't like.

She thought she could hide it very well, though.

"Now I want to see the bank," she declared. "It is called the bank, right?"

"Riverbank, yes," he said, with the obvious intent to correct her.

She rolled her eyes.

As she pretended to be interested in the river—well, pretended harder: she was already fascinated by the whole thing—she kept her eyes on the distant shore. Something was up. She just didn't know what.

They had gotten to where the stones made a short path across the water when she said, "I want to cross."

"What?" he yelped. "No, Patch. We're going home now."

"We're already out, aren't we?" she said. "Let's go a bit further."

_"No. _Twist and Declan are already going to strangle me if they find out. Not to mention Lucky or my father." He took a small step back towards the Warren. "Come on. Let's go now."

"I just want to check out the other side," she said. "Please?"

Streak closed his eyes. "Hazel. No. We're—"

There was a whisper of sound through the undergrowth.

Immediately, Streak reached with his forepaw and shunted her backwards, putting himself protectively between them and the noise. Hazel, hiding with sudden fear behind him, noticed again how much older he looked when he was serious, how his back suddenly seemed wider, his shoulders taller. His expression was so much colder.

Streak's ears were pricked and alert as he stared in the direction. Then one flicked to the side as another rustle sounded across the river.

"We need to go." His words were almost soundless. "Now."

"Okay," Hazel said, her chest tight with fear. She watched him turn, his eyes still on the far bank, and then crept closer to him. His presence was always soothing for bad dreams or fights with Twist, but this was something else entirely: a real, natural fear from something that had the potential to hurt her. It was terrifying.

_ Maybe Twist was right to keep me inside, _she thought.

They hurried back up the embankment but at the top, Hazel saw it: a flash of pelt. She gasped loudly, against her will, which made Streak wheel around.

"We're being followed," he said, confirming her fear. He pushed her into the woods, to where a fallen log blocked the way. The roots bristled outwards, grasping at the sky, leaving a pocket of space between the trunk and the floor.

Streak pushed her down into the little alcove, scuffing a few leaves in front of it to hide her.

"If you hear someone coming, close your eyes," he said, echoing what Twist and Declan had always told her. "I'll be back."

"Wait," she begged in a whisper. "Don't leave me here."

His eyes softened. He gently touched his nose to her forehead. "I'll be right back. Just _stay here." _And then he was gone with a light patter of paws.

Hazel watched him go with a feeling of overwhelming dread. Her breath was quick and shallow in her throat. It felt like she couldn't get enough air, that the roots around her would close in and crush her. She gasped for air now, her chest heaving.

There was a sound outside the roots.

She closed her eyes immediately, curling her body in on herself. Her tail brushed silkily against her nose as she pressed closer, trying to make herself disappear.

The sound increased in volume until it was clearly a set of paws walking. A cat. Alone. Hazel had had enough training to be able to discern that.

The smell hit her next: mud; cat; male. A smell that was like crushed pine needles, sharp and pungent.

_Maybe if I'm perfectly still, he won't see me. _She thanked everything in the world that she hadn't inherited her mother's ginger fur: dark brown fur could make her disappear right into the dirt. Hopefully.

"Hello." The voice was soft, pleasant, musical.

_Oh no. _"Hello," she greeted, eyes still clamped tightly shut.

"May I ask what you're doing?" He sounded amused. He was young, with a light voice.

"Um." She didn't know exactly how to explain this. _I'm hiding here because I think my friend thinks you're an enemy, so it would be nice if you left me alone so I could continue to hide here. Thanks. _"Sleeping."

He laughed. His laugh was longer than Twist's. "You've picked quite a strange place to sleep, friend."

_Friend. _That was something Lucky always called cats.

She didn't say anything in return.

"You wouldn't happen to be from the Warren, are you?"

"Why does that matter?" she said defensively.

He laughed again. "That sounds like a resounding yes."

"You sound like a resounding nosey cat."

"That's really the best you can do?" He sounded a bit disappointed.

Hazel gritted her teeth. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I don't know you."

"I can fix that," he said easily. "I'm Kale."

"Kale?"

"Kale," he said, sounding amused. "And you?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to you, remember?"

"But we've been talking for awhile now. And your friend hasn't returned yet."

She felt an immediate surge of anger. "If you've hurt him, I'll—"

"I wouldn't dream of hurting him," he said seriously. "I only made a little distraction so I could talk to you."

That surprised her. "To me?"

"That's unusual?"

"What's unusual?"

He let out a little humming sound. "That a tom would want to talk to a beautiful she-cat?"

A hot flush spread through her. "You…you shouldn't say things like that!"

"Are you denying that you're beautiful?"

"Yes! No! I… You just shouldn't say things like that!" She turned away, putting her face against the roots. "Leave me alone now! I'm going to get into trouble."

"Yes," Kale said. "Lucky will be mad."

"He will," she agreed. Then a thought hit her. "No, I don't know Lucky." The main question that was running through her head was how this random tom knew Lucky. Were the Sliders that well-known in this forest?

Kale purred. "So convincing. You could be a regular liar."

"I don't lie," she spat. She didn't want to talk to this weird young tom who teased her and made fun of her and called her beautiful. She wished that Streak would come back soon and scare him away.

That made him shut up. After a long pause, Kale said, "How intriguing."

"Do you come across liars often? Being a…a bad cat?"

He laughed, a soft hushed sound. "I'm not a bad cat. In fact, I'd imagine you'd like me if you would look at me."

"I'm not supposed to open my eyes."

"Why not?"

That struck her. Twist had never told her that much. "I'm just not."

"There seems to be a lot of things you're not supposed to do but you're doing anyway, friend."

"Stop calling me that. We're not friends."

"Okay," Kale said easily. "What shall I call you instead?"

She didn't fall for it this time. "Nothing."

"Okay, Nothing."

"Huh?"

"You said to call you Nothing so I'll call you Nothing." Kale's voice was infuriatingly amused. "Shall I call you something else, Nothing, or are you pleased with that name selection?"

"Slow down, you talk too fast."

"I'm sorry," he said but he didn't sound very sorry. "I'm used to getting all my words out quickly so I can talk more."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't talk so much. It gets annoying."

"You haven't stopped talking to me, so I'll assume it's an effective tactic." He let out an upset sound, half-sigh, half-hum. "I hear your friend returning. I guess this means I'll leave."

"Bye," she said shortly.

"I get the feeling you want me to leave."

"You're just now getting that feeling? Most would have gotten it a lot sooner."

"You are a very outspoken she-cat. I like that."

"You're being creepy. Please leave." But now it felt like banter, like between her and Streak. This tom, for all his strangeness and seeming friendliness, was very personable, charismatic even. It was highly unusual. And Hazel found herself very drawn to his oddness.

Kale laughed once more. "Okay, I'll go. But I'd really like to know your name. Just for future reference."

"You won't need it," she said, turning around. Through the shadows, she half-opened her eyes, making sure the shine of the moon couldn't catch across them.

Twist's words echoed in her head: _Never open your eyes in danger. Stay hidden, stay down, stay safe. _

But for some reason, she felt extra daring in this tom's presence.

As she'd thought, he was young. Only a few moon cycles older than her. His fur, weirdly enough, was covered with a layer of mud that ran in streaks down his sides like tabby stripes. His eyes were very bright blue.

"Ah!" Kale said, flicking his tail up in happiness. "You trust me now?"

"No," she said, watching with half-lidded eyes. "I don't."

"That's shame." But he didn't sound downtrodden. "I have to go. Your name?"

Hazel warred with herself for a moment. She didn't know this tom, nothing about him at all. Streak would disapprove so much it might bend him in half, and she knew that Twist and Declan would be furious.

Maybe that was why she did it.

"Hazel," she said.

"Hazel," Kale repeated. "I'll remember that. Goodbye, Hazel."

Then just like that, he disappeared. With one flick of his tail and a scattering of pawsteps, he was gone.

"Oh, thank goodness you're alright." Streak's face was in front of her suddenly. There was a smudge of mud across his nose. "Did anything happen?"

"Did you catch someone?"

He shook his head. "They ran faster than me. I'll…I'll find a way to report this to Lucky. I'll make something up." He rolled his shoulders, wincing a bit. Then his eyes widened. "You didn't…you didn't see anyone did you?"

Hazel thought for a moment, looking into his wide honest eyes. He was keeping something from her. She knew that. It hurt her feelings.

So she made up her mind.

"No," she said, crawling out to follow him back to camp. "I didn't see anyone."

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! A full chapter! <strong>

**Sorry it took me so long but, like, I _wrote a novel. _XD Now I have to go back and ferociously edit it, though. I'm gonna send out some queries soon to see if I can get an actual book published. That would be so amazing. *_***

**Also, did any of you guys get a recommendation to read me from some other FFnet author? Like, I got a huge amount of reviews and hits and stuff right around the same time. Is someone FFnet-famous out there reading Float or something? XD**

**Can people be FFnet-famous? **

**:O**

**Am _I _FFnet-famous? **

**These are the questions that haunt me.**

**Alright, enough enough. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	13. Open and Close

**I typed this while watching Juno so I think some of that kookiness came through at the end. I REGRET NOTHING.**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Sorry, but my days as a semi-pro fic-writer are very much over. I write now just for funsies, without the obsession drive I used to have. I'm sorry if that means that my updates have big gaps between them but it's either that or I stop altogether, and that's no fun for either party, I don't think.**

**Icestar0921 - Indeed, indeed! It might take me awhile but I will always come back. Eventually. XD**

**Rapidfeather - Hee~ Delicious, delicious angst. XD**

**Squirrelheart - Oh good! That means my new attempts at showing-and-not-telling are coming to a peak! XD Hee~ I'm glad you like her. She's a lot different from my other mains I've written and I do so love writing from behind her eyes. XD**

**Tangleflame - Hee~! Thank you! -blushes- You guys are so nice to me. X3 **

**Shadowmist1999 - Yaaaay for starting fanfiction! I'm sure you'll find that it's quite addicting. It's kept me coming back for years, after all. XD Congrats on your fiiiiic~ Declan and Twist will still have their moments, don't worry! Hazel's eyes always seem to avert from her almost-parents' lovey-dovey-ness, though. XD My novel is in the state of oh-my-gosh-I-am-so-glad-it's-done-but-I-don't-want-to-work-on-it. I'm letting it stew for a bit before I launch into anymore editing. XD**

**The Moons Feather - Helloooo! Thank you, thank you~! I'm glad you like it. ^.^**

**monkeyCsaw - Oh, I would def count you as FFnet famous. I mean, look at your reviews. Totally jelly. XD DUDE. I am so glad that I'm not the only one loving the ponies. I do love them so. I found the last episode to be absolutely HIGH-larious. Seriously. My obsession with it is totally unbecoming of my age. XD**

**Ravenshade - Oh, Le Mysterious Cat-Killer is still very much on the loose, though s/he has decided to be uncommonly sneaky now. I wonder why that is~? X3 Hee! I'm glad you like it so much. I'm sorry I don't get to update as much for you guys, as I do so much appreciate your feedback, but I'm trying hard to keep it even. Truly! ^.^**

**And onto the story~**

* * *

><p>"You won't believe what I saw." Streak sounded excited, his paws thumping on the ground as he approached her. "Wait, what's wrong? Are you okay?"<p>

Hazel, who was lying half-hidden in the shade of a box-nest, looked up, distracted. She hadn't noticed how the time had slipped away from her, like wet leaves beneath her paws. It was already mid-afternoon, the sun streaming orange down onto her back. It was warm, lovely warm. After the cold rain that morning, it felt absolutely delicious.

She shook her head, trying to flick the thoughts away. "What? Oh, no. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" He padded closer, brushing his muzzle against her ears. "You don't have a fever, do you?"

"I'm fine," she said again. Twist had told her that when she was born, she'd been a sick kit. That still caught up with her occasionally, making her fall ill quicker than a normal cat. It wasn't a problem to Hazel, she thought staunchly, as she considered herself tougher than a normal cat. After all, she had the Sliders at her back. They would protect her even if she did fall sick.

Which was a good reason to not fall sick, she thought. She didn't want to depend on anybody.

Except for Streak. Though he was the exception for a lot of things.

He let out a soft hum of dissatisfaction as he pulled away, his expression concerned. "You don't feel feverish. Maybe Flint can look at you, anyway."

"I'm _fine. _Really, Catch. I wouldn't lie to you."

Immediately, she felt bad for it. Not even a full day ago, she'd lied to him, right to his face. He didn't know anything about it.

Something in her told her to keep Kale a secret. He knew things, things that he shouldn't. How would he know who Lucky and the Sliders are? How did he know she was hiding there? Why did he want to talk to her?

And why had he called her beautiful? No one had ever called her that, ever. Not even Streak. It made her stomach feel tight and uncomfortable, and it made her want to bury her face in her paws.

Everything about the situation made her head hurt.

Which was why she had come here, all the way out by the outskirts of the box-nest maze. She didn't think anyone would find her out here. She'd underestimated Streak.

He looked dubious but agreed all the same. "So," he said, "I have news."

"Oh?" she asked dully. She lifted her head to see him dancing from paw to paw, excitement in his yellow eyes.

"Yes. It seems like I was mistaken yesterday. Others have reported to Lucky about hearing voices out in the woods during their midnight patrols. They say it's just further Sliders doing their rounds. Nothing to worry about."

_You're lying to me. _Hazel had to fight to keep the betrayal off her face. He knew that something was wrong out in the woods, that there were cats close by. But he just wasn't telling her.

But why?

"That's good," she said, forcing cheer. She'd never lied to him before; trying to do it now hurt her somewhere inside. She'd lied plenty of times to Twist and Declan but lying to Streak tasted like betrayal.

For a heartbeat, she half-thought he'd caught her. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at her speculatively but there wasn't a trace of doubt on his face. He trusted her wholeheartedly. If only she could do the same.

She wanted to shake him and demand the truth from him. They'd always told each other the truth. They were closer than blood. And now here he was, keeping something from her. It made her angry and achy in equal parts and she wasn't sure which part would win out in the end.

Streak flicked her nose with his tail. "You sure you're okay, Patch?"

_I'd be more okay if we could go outside again. _"Yeah," she agreed, standing. "But Lucky'll kill me if I don't go do my work now. Bedding has to be brought in again since that rainstorm this morning. Everything got all wet." She snorted. "I don't understand why some cats leave their bedding outside. It's stupid."

"It's to freshen it up," Streak told her, amusement in his eyes. "You don't know about that because Twist still does it for you."

For some reason, that struck a nerve. "No she doesn't! I can handle my own bedding!"

"Oh, yes she does. I know because I saw her doing it the other day." His eyes crinkled around the corners, the yellow dancing like bursts of sunlight. "She takes such good care of you. Such a little kit you are."

Hazel hissed, startling Streak enough that he recoiled a bit, shock on his face.

She spat, "I'm not a kit! I'm an adult! And when I'm a full-blown Slider, you'll be eating those words." She stalked away from him, irritation prickling through her pelt like ants. Streak called her back but she ignored him, running quicker away.

This aggravation, which would normally only be Streak's usual gentle teasing, was unbearable. She had to get walking, get her head in something, to block it all out.

The storm had blown bits of leaves and twigs everywhere, making a crunchy mess to walk over. Already a team of cats had gotten together and had begun to push it away, placing it into piles. Usually they put the scraps in one of the underground dens. The heat of the decomposing leaves would keep the dens warm for the mothers and their young kits—something that Hazel hadn't known until Lucky pointed it out to her. He was so smart, she thought admirably, stepping over a particularly large branch. He was the smartest cat she knew. But because of that, he was the last cat she would ask for advice.

She caught sight of a glint of red-brown fur and weaved over to it immediately, wondering why she hadn't thought to ask him in the first place. "Declan."

He looked up, a twig caught in his mouth. It pushed the side of his lip up, crinkling his whiskers. "Oh, hey, scrap." He set it down, leaning over to lick her ear; she allowed it, twitching her ear after he was done. "Having fun today?"

"No," she scoffed, falling heavily onto her haunches, her banded tail flipping behind her. "I'm fighting with Streak."

"Oh." He looked surprised, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh. That's unusual."

"I need advice," she said seriously. "And you can't tell Twist."

Declan had a sensible head on his shoulders. Hazel loved him dearly for it as well as everything else about him. He was the only father she'd ever had, the only one she could imagine having. And the best part was that he would keep her secrets, as far as she knew.

Her real father was a mystery to her. All she had was his name: Snit. And a weird name it was, too. Hazel didn't even think that was a word, let alone a name. He'd died moon cycles before she'd been born, right after some scuffle with another group of nearby cats. Everyone seemed pretty locked-lipped on that subject. Everyone, that is, except for Lightfoot, the half-crazy she-cat that Hazel loved almost as much as she loved Twist.

_Maybe you should talk to her, too, _she thought to herself, sighing heavily.

She had to be careful. If Twist thought something was up, she wouldn't hesitate to ask.

Declan hesitated. "Hazel…"

Behind him, Lightfoot looked up, her eyes sharp as usual. After a moment, her head quirked to the side, she returned to her work, cleaning up the larger sticks.

"Please, Declan!" Hazel looked away from her, rubbing up against Declan's side in placation. Sweetening him up would take no effort at all: it never had. "It's a secret."

Declan sighed. He nodded to the team leader, River, behind him, then ushered her away to the edge of the nest-place where they wouldn't be overheard. Sitting down, patting the ground next to him with his paw for her to sit next to him, he asked, "Now what's this about?"

So Hazel told him, leaving out the part about hers and Streak's nighttime adventure yesterday. Declan listened patiently, not asking any questions until she got to the end, her tongue and throat dry.

Even after she finished, he was silent. "Well?" she demanded, not able to hold back anymore. "Was I wrong?"

Declan twisted his mouth to the side. "Every cat has trouble with their friends," he said. "You should apologize."

Shock radiated through her. _Her _apologize? But she hadn't even done anything! "Do you have any more advice?" she asked, less than pleased with his wisdom.

Declan laughed. "No, sorry. You've got to learn to get along with others, Hazel. If you get in fights with Streak, you don't have anyone to hang around with."

She looked away morosely. "I have you."

She let out a mew of protest as he nuzzled her side, nearly unbalancing her. "Always, little one," he said softly, purring. "Now, go on. Go find someone else to play with. You and the other kits are supposed to help with all those feathers today."

Hazel pulled a face at that. "Can't I be a messenger today? Or I could help you clean!" She bounced to her paws, her tail curling along her back.

Declan's green eyes were very fond and very patient. "It's too much work for you, scrap. The branches are too heavy."

"Then I'll pick up leaves," she said stubbornly.

Declan sighed.

So Hazel joined them, wadding up the brown crusts of dried leaves and carrying them over to the pile where they would be moved. They were dry and tasteless in her tongue, clinging with particles of dirt that scraped at her teeth but she didn't mind. She wanted something to get her mind off of her spat with Streak.

They never fought. It was scary to think of him not being friends with her. Sometimes she thought about that possibility, her life without him, but it was too dark and miserable to linger on for very long. Streak was simply a part of her, as irreplaceable and natural as her lungs or her paws. A life without him would be a painful, empty place.

_And after all that, you still won't apologize, _she thought to herself. She closed her eyes as she picked up another bundle of leaves. _Twist would approve._

She knew she was being unfair to Twist. Truthfully, Hazel admired Twist more than anyone else. But when she was mothering over her too much, smothering her beneath the weight of her concern, Hazel lost her patience. She was eight moon cycles old. Two more and she would be free of Twist's hovering.

Hazel tossed the next bunch onto the larger pile, sticking out her tongue and trying to curl a bit of leaf off the tip of it. It stuck stubbornly despite her licking, even as she shook her head. Raising a paw to her mouth, she scrubbed it off.

The motion unbalanced her. Clumsily, she fell to the side, hitting the ground with a smack. It was uneven here, the ground slanted, and she began rolling down it ungracefully, spinning nose-over-tail until, with a painful crush, she hit the border fence of the Warren and stuck there.

She sat up slowly, her head spinning. The sticky dampness of rotting leaves clung to her pelt, the sweet dark scent reaching her nostrils. She curled her lip in disgust, shaking out her fur but they stuck firmly.

Hazel sighed. _As if this day could get any worse. It's not even midday and already I've gotten in a fight and fallen down the hill. What would Streak say if he saw me? _

But she'd know what he'd say. He'd fret that she'd actually managed to hurt herself before teasing her about her clumsiness. _First day on your new paws, _perhaps, or maybe, _I guess you were too busy trying to breathe and walk at the same time to notice the ground, Patch._

Hazel let out an annoyed sound at the very prospect of it.

She fell onto her back, musingly prodding leaves with her white forepaws. Twist always told her she resembled her mother, though Audrey's pelt had been ginger. Hazel's dark tabby pelt fell around her shoulders like a shadow, contrasting sharply with her white legs and chest. The tip of her tail was a perfect slice of white. The only bit of her mother in her was a large, dark ginger splash of fur between her ears—which Streak adopted for her nickname.

There was a metallic flash in the very corner of the fence, right where the two sides came together.

Hazel frowned upside-down, watching it. She'd never seen something like that before.

She flipped onto her belly and crawled towards it, peeking down into the corner.

It was a small piece of _something. _It winked in the sunlight like a star.

Plucking it up on her claws, she dragged it out flat. It was a sliver of metal, as long as her forepaw. The end of it was a wide round basin, like a shell, and not very deep.

_What is this? _She tossed it between her paws, turning it over and over. Lightfoot had told her of no-pelts, strange furless beings on two legs. Maybe this was something of theirs.

She looked beyond the silver-thing to where it had been. Someone had been digging there; the ground was lower, the dirt settled in a way that she knew meant no one had been over here in a long time.

She looked behind her. No one was in sight-range.

With a giddy feeling of unease, she scooted forward, taking the metal-thing with her.

Below the edge of the fence was a hole, dipping right down into a tunnel. It was wide enough for only the smallest of cats—cats as small as Hazel.

Her breath caught.

This could be her chance. No one had to know, after all. She could sneak right out and no one would know the difference. Declan would think she lost interest in helping and went to do something else. He wouldn't raise the alarm.

She clutched the silver-thing to her chest as she let out a hopeful keen. The thought of being outside was thrilling, singing through her blood like adrenaline. It had to happen right now before she changed her mind.

Picking up the silver-thing in her teeth, she pulled herself down into the hole. It was a tight fit, her shoulder sliding awkwardly in, her hindquarters falling on top of her, but she managed it.

She wriggled fiercely, twisting and thrashing, and then she was free.

She felt her eyes widen as she took in the scene.

_Outside._

Behind the Warren were trees, rows and rows of them, stretching endlessly forward. She could hear the sound of the little stream rippling, could taste its cold metallic flavor on her tongue. The sounds of birds chirping made her turn her head as a jay flew by, nearly close enough to touch; she whipped around to watch it go, agilely darting up into the sky and disappearing.

She let out a squeak of excitement, turning on the spot with glee. _Outside!_

Taking the silver-thing up in her mouth again and flipping it, she dug the rounded part into the ground by the fence, marking the place where the hole was. It made a gritty crunch as it pushed aside the dried dirt. _There, _she thought, satisfied. _Now I'll be able to find it again_.

Then she turned, took a deep breath, and darted into the forest.

Inside it was light and breezy. The sun spilled beams of scattered light down onto the ground. In the spaces of the branches, Hazel could see the wide beating wings of birds above. They were black, crows maybe. Or maybe ravens. They were black, right? She didn't know of many types of birds—except the gulls that circled above the Warren sometimes. This could be an excellent opportunity to learn everything she could.

_And think, _she mused giddily, _you can come out here anytime you want now. No one will catch you if you're careful and you will be oh so careful._

Already she was watching her steps, making sure that her paws didn't dimple the soft dirt here. It was wet, probably from the rain this morning and the impending storm she could taste like brook water.

That put a damper on her happiness, but only just. Rain meant she would be expected home, to take shelter with Twist and Declan. Declan wouldn't notice she was missing, not until she was characteristically back. It was an annoyance but a brief one. It would be awhile before the rain came down.

The forest spread out before her like beautiful green wings. It was enchanting—a word Hazel wouldn't generally apply to anything. The forest seemed to speak to her on some level she didn't understand—instinct maybe, she thought. She'd never put much thought into something like that but there it was, laid out before her. Instinct could be flowing through her body like blood right now, driving her motions. It set her nose to twitching as she tried to pick up scent.

At once, a warm woodsy smell came to her nostrils.

_Rat? _But rats had a more bitter smell, something like turned meat. They weren't healthy to eat; the Warren had long since banned hunting of them. All the meat she ate came from the forest.

Hazel licked her lips. Today it would come from the forest, sure enough. But it would be killed by her claws.

The leaves twitched ahead of her.

She froze, her muscles locking into place. Her eyes trained on the spot. Everything in her told her _silence. _Holding completely still, she watched as a mouse crept out of the leaf, a bit of it clinging to its small pink ears.

It was adorable, she thought. It looked delicious.

Hazel moved forward one paw at a time, feeling her muscles move smoothly beneath her pelt. The ground was soft beneath her paws as she stalked it, not even daring to blink in case it moved.

The mouse turned its head in her direction.

Hazel held perfectly still.

It seemed to not be able to see very well. Its tiny eyes were like black ants in its gray face. After a moment it turned away, nosing around for seeds, and that was when Hazel struck.

She hit it with both paws, clasping its warm body between her pads. The mouse squirmed and struggled, its sharp teeth gnawing at her rough pads. It couldn't get a good grip. It was squeaking pitifully, the sound transfixing.

"Now now," came a voice from the undergrowth. A pair of pale glinting eyes matched it. "That's not very kind to it, isn't it? Kill it and get it over with."

Hazel shut her eyes immediately. Her heart hammered but she thought she recognized the voice. It felt like her blood beat faster at the recognition of it. "I don't know how," she admitted.

Kale laughed. "A bite to the neck. You can do it."

Hazel hesitated. "I've…never killed something before." She squinted her eyes open as the mouse continued to thrash, its struggles getting progressively weaker. It was so helpless in her paws, just a tiny speck of life suspended between instruments of death.

And for a moment, she felt completely terrible for this, for causing this mouse's panic.

But Kale's voice came again and he crept closer. She still couldn't make out his form through her half-closed eyes but his eyes gleamed. "Everything has a purpose, Hazel," he said, sounding distinctly wise. "This mouse has a purpose. It collects seeds to help the trees grow. It's done its job. Now your job is to use the energy it has to make yourself grow."

Hazel looked down at it. Its eyes were wide, watching her. Its tiny chest was heaving.

Her heart panged.

"You're a hunter, Hazel," Kale said. "You're not a grass-eater. You can't eat seeds. You eat meat."

"I know that," she snapped. The mouse was still staring at her. "I just…"

She couldn't do it. Not after seeing this mouse's terror. It was so small, so helpless. It was just living its life in the forest, probably providing for a family. It could have a little of little mouse kits somewhere, waiting for it to return.

If she killed it, she would be taking away their mother.

Her paws opened.

For a moment, the mouse held still. Then it was gone, a flash of pale gray fur and long skinny tail. It disappeared into the bushes across from her, away from Kale.

Hazel watched it go, her heart still fluttering like a trapped bird.

"Curious." Hazel turned towards the sound of his voice, closing her eyes again. In the darkness, she heard his inquisitive voice. "You let it go."

"It was only a mouse. I wasn't hungry."

"What are you going to do when you are hungry? Will you let every bit of prey escape because you pity it? You relate to a mouse now?" He didn't sound accusatory, just curious in a very innocent kind of way. Like a kit.

Hazel turned her face away from him and though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was watching her. "I don't want to take something away from its family."

Kale was silent for so long that Hazel thought he had left. "You know," he said then, so softly that Hazel's fur felt suddenly hot, "you are endlessly fascinating."

Hazel let out a short, nervous laugh, regretful that she hadn't scoffed. Completely caught off guard by his surprising honesty, she couldn't even fully muster her usual distance. "Why do you keep saying things like that?"

"Because they're true."

Suddenly he was right in front of her. His scent was dark and earthy, as if he spent a lot of time beneath the ground, and his voice was lighter than she thought, lighter than Streak's. She could feel the warmth of his fur as he bent to sniff her, his whiskers brushing her face.

"I wish you'd open your eyes," he said softly, his voice endearingly shaky. Clearing his throat, obviously self-conscious, he added, "I mean, so we can see each other."

"Why do you want to see me?" she demanded, crouching closer to the ground. She wasn't afraid of him, not in the least. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she had come out into the woods to find him. He was compelling in a way she didn't really understand. She wanted to befriend him, to get to know him better.

Kale said, "It's not really that my real intent is for me to see you. I want you to see me."

Confused, she said, "I have seen you."

"That's not what I meant."

Hazel said, "Stop speaking in riddles."

"I'm not. I speak very frankly with you, Hazel. Unlike my friends."

"There are more of you?"

He laughed. "More of me," he repeated. "Yes, they produce cats just like me all the time. We spring up out of the water like spirits."

Hazel frowned. "Now you're being weird again."

"I'm sorry. Would you like me to try again?"

"Try what again?"

"To become friends with you."

Hazel felt a jolt of shock. Heart beating quickly, she demanded, "Why would you want to be friends with me?"

"I told you before," Kale said matter-of-factly, sitting down in front of her. She felt the puff of dust from the movement brush against her nose. "I like you. I want to get to know you better. You're not like the other cats I've met. You're different."

_Different? _Hazel thought. She shook her head. "I'm normal."

"Oh please," he scoffed. "You're anything but."

"You speak as though you know me. Why's that?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, but this time he actually sounded apologetic. "I don't mean to seem…pressuring. I know that I hardly know you and you hardly know me but there's…there's something about you that I find so…compelling? I don't know what it is. I've never felt like this before. Maybe it's because I don't know a lot of cats—really, I don't—but I just…" He trailed off. "Let me begin again," he said, sounding very formal. "Hazel, please be friends with me."

Playing along now, she said, "I don't think my gang would be very happy about that."

"Oh, then I should just whisk you away from this place on honeyed words?" he teased. "Would that be enough to sway you to my side?"

"Unfortunately, I don't like honey."

"What about soured words? Though the ring of 'soured words' seems to be a little depressing."

Hazel laughed. "How about savory words?" she suggested.

Kale let out a humming sound. "Interesting considering you didn't kill that mouse."

"You just killed the whole thing right then," she said, pulling a sour look. She stood abruptly and turned without opening her eyes—more out of stubbornness now than of any fear of danger.

Kale presented no threat to her, not really. He was something between her perceived expectation of _danger _and that of _other. _Not something to be feared but not something to watch out for warily, as one would watch an animal's burrow when they weren't sure what was going to come out.

He sounded surprised. "Killed what?"

"You were doing so well, tricking me into trusting you." She started to stalk off, keeping her eyes shut—Twist's voice was whispering to her in the back of her head; it always seemed to be her voice, the one that constantly sent a stream of praise and scolding directly into her brain. "I almost believed you for a heartbeat."

She hissed as she collided with something warm. Her eyes flew open as she saw white chest fur in front of her eyes. Backing up rapidly, she crouched low, protective of herself.

Kale had ridiculously blue eyes. They weren't the normal blue, not like Adder's. They were a very _alive _blue, alive in the way that the sky was alive. And the way they were watching her, an expression that was half-amusement and half-amazement dancing in them, they were very, very beautiful.

"Why wouldn't you believe me?" he asked, sounding absolutely puzzled. "What reasons would I have to lie to you, Hazel?"

"You don't know me."

"But I want to." He leaned forward, that aliveness back in his eyes, stronger than ever. She couldn't even pull away, enraptured as she was when she was looking into the eyes of that mouse. "I want to so badly, Hazel. Please let me know you. I want you to know me."

"I…" Hazel didn't know what to say. She couldn't think, not with those eyes on her.

What he could possibly want with her was completely beyond her scope. She wasn't anything exceptional: she wasn't even a Slider yet!

There was a rustle in the bushes.

Kale's eyes widened. Then he turned to her and whispered, "Hazel, will you meet me again?"

Hazel just stared at him, dazed, out of breath. "Yeah," she breathed. "Sure."

Kale's eyes lit up. "I'll be here," he promised. "Whenever you come again, I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

Then he turned and darted away, back through the bushes, his pale tabby fur disappearing into the gloom more quickly than she would have imagined.

Hazel stood there, watching him go. "Wow," she breathed again, lightheaded.

"Not quite my reaction, but it will have to suffice." Hazel turned, horror flushing through her, as she saw the distinctive black-and-white pelt of Lightfoot.

The she-cat, lovely even in her anger, looked absolutely livid. Her green eyes were nothing more than slits as she glared at Hazel, who felt herself shrink under the heat of that anger.

"I'm going to consider seeing you out here as an admission of complete and utter stupidity," Lightfoot said, the sound of her voice like a crack of thunder. "What could you possibly be thinking, being out here like this? Alone?" Then she sniffed, her nostrils flaring. "Who were you talking to just now?"

"Nobody," Hazel said defensively.

Too defensively. Lightfoot's eyes widened. "You really were talking to someone, weren't you? Who? What did they look like?"

"It was just some passing cat," she said, turning away. "None of your business." Her eyes lifted to the sky as she fought to keep her face blank and she noticed that the gray clouds had come closer, the smell of rain becoming stronger. She'd waited too long now. Twist would suspect.

"Oh no," Lightfoot said, her laugh harsh. "You might be able to pull that stupid trick on the others but not on me. You're getting yourself into danger because you're being a moron, Hazel. _Think. _Hasn't Twist told you not to trust cats outside the Sliders? Didn't she tell you how dangerous it is for—" She cut off, so abruptly that Hazel was a little bit astonished through her numb terror.

"For who?" she demanded. The fur was up along her back; she could feel it prickling in the slight wind. "For cats like me?"

Lightfoot's face was absolutely impassive. "You're a fool for this, Hazel. And if I were a better cat, I would report you."

Hope clutched fiercely at Hazel's chest. "Does that mean…?"

"That I won't tell? Yes. This isn't any of my business. Just like why I'm here is none of your business." Her eyes narrowed. "But if I catch you out here again—if you give me any sort of hint that you could be sneaking out before you're allowed—nothing will stop me from forcing you away from this. Don't be stupid, Hazel. You're smart—I know that, you know that. So act it."

She turned and walked away, leaving Hazel alone, confused and angry, on the path, as the curtain of rain descended.

* * *

><p><strong>You know what I don't understand? Like, people who pride themselves on cynicism. Why would you think that would be something to be proud of? I mean, being a jerk is an accomplishment now? Seriously. People need to know the "con" part of concrit = constructive. Is there something wrong with giving advice that is both critically while being polite? I just don't get it.<strong>

**Maybe it's just me, but I think we should all be helpful towards each other.**

**And, like, have sour cream and onion flavored pretzels whenever we wanted.**

**You know, in a perfect world.**

**I am so deliriously kooky. One of my friends called me scatterbrained the other day but clearly he does not understand my particular brand of eccentricity. **

**XD**

**Anyway.**

**You know what to do~**

**R&R~**

**Shadow **


	14. Bait and Switch

**Gosh, I'm gone for a few weeks and FFnet changes again! I'm not sure if this glowy-yellow-box thing is working for me. It confuses meeeee!**

**Also, I'm going to do an experiment. It seems like my reviews/hits have been dropping as of late and it makes me wonder if it's because my chapters are too long (or if I don't update enough to keep you guys happy), so I'm going to test it. This chapter is like 1.5K shorter than usual, so you'll all have to tell me if you like this better. XD**

**Also also, I'm playing around with format, because I find the usual fanfictiony type chapters kind of a given, and also because I get bored easily and want to try new things. And it might be because I'm taking screenwriting and I know how to do these things now and want to try them in fiction. XD **

**So this chapter utilizes what you call a "cold open."**

**Okay. So.**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

><p>"I won't ask again." The black tom, his eyes alight with malice, took another step closer. His scent was dark and musky, like leaves that had been left to rot, but judging by the blue collar wrapped around his neck, he was a housecat. Declan stared, trying to piece together those details, but he was too confused by blood-loss and sheer bewilderment.<p>

"I don't know!" Declan said, trying to be calm but his voice was shaking. The cats on either side of him had bared teeth and bristling fur. "I told you, I don't know anything about this! I'm innocent, really. I have an ally: she came with me. You can ask her. She—"

"Yes, the she-cat." The tom tossed his head dismissively. "You claim that she's here but my cats have picked up on nothing. If you won't speak, we have other…less pleasant ways of making you talk. It's your choice, wildcat."

He flicked his tail and the cats closed in on Declan, claws unsheathed and ready to strike.

XXXXXXX

That morning had begun normally enough. Declan usually awoke a few moments before Twist and Hazel—enough time for his sleep-addled brain to clear enough for conversation. He yawned, arching his back and stretching, one hind paw at a time, until his muscles were soft and supple.

Since his two favorite cats were still sleeping—Hazel less peacefully than Twist, with her twitching paws and wrinkling nose—Declan decided to make himself useful and fetch something to eat.

Stepping over Twist's trailing tail, he paused for a moment. With her lovely eyes closed and with her tail curling around her small body like a mouse would, she looked tiny and helpless and fragile as an icicle. So beautiful. Then he brushed his muzzle softly against her ears, purring.

Twist murmured, "Declan," and he was afraid he'd woken her up. But then rolled to her other side, turning her shoulder to him, and said, "No, I don't want any more fish. I don't want scales. Again."

Declan could barely hold back a laugh.

Outside, the air was sharp with rain. Off in the distance, he could hear the rumble of coming thunder. Declan shook the drops of dew off his ears and padded down the twisting paths to the bottom of the Warren, beneath the edges of the box-nests, where it was warm and dry enough to keep prey.

The hunters had already been out earlier and the prey-pile was stocked. Declan grabbed a bird for Twist—she'd never admit that the mountains had altered her tastes but he knew her better than that—and a squirrel big enough for him and Hazel to split. She'd seemed to have lost a bit of her kit-weight recently and he was concerned for her. A fat squirrel would do her some good.

He'd just begun to start up the path back to his den when he was interrupted by a smooth voice: "Ah, just the cat I was looking for."

It was Lightfoot. Her eyes were sharp as usual, as hard and glittering and flat as green glass. She took one look at his prey, disinterested, before adding, "I need your help."

He was surprised. Lightfoot needed him? "'Good morning' would have been a better start," he told her.

Lightfoot shrugged. "I don't have time for that. Are you going to help me or not?"

"I don't even know what you want, though."

"That's not important. Just come and I'll explain on the way." It was only then that Declan noticed the subtle changes about her, things he supposed no one but him or Lucky would have noticed, as most cats gave Lightfoot a wide berth.

Her claws were long and untrimmed, clotted with mud and dead leaves. The fur on her back wasn't as silky as it used to be and it looked as though she'd lost weight; he could nearly count her ribs.

She didn't appreciate his scrutiny. "Not to be insensitive to your ogling, but I do have things I want to do today, Declan."

Embarrassed, he said, "S-sorry. I just have to take these to Twist and—"

"Get someone else to do it," she interrupted. Casting her eyes around, she locked onto the tiny form of the young cat, Gray, who was stumbling out of his den in the lower tier for breakfast. His eyes were still dewy-blue like a kit's, despite the fact he was only a pawful of days younger than Hazel. "You! Brat! Come here."

_Not exactly the best way to go about it. _Declan felt like he needed to step in and protect the young tom, who looked half-terrified at the sight of Lightfoot. "Good morning, Gray. Could you do me a favor?"

"Y-y-yes," Gray said to Declan, but his eyes were on Lightfoot.

"Can you bring this to my den? It's for Twist and Hazel." _I guess I'll just go without for now, _he thought, mournful for his empty belly.

Gray nodded eagerly, looking relieved. Taking up the two bits of prey, he scooted quickly out of the way, trotting up the path back towards the den.

Lightfoot watched him go, something like interest in her eyes. "Whose is that one?"

"_That one," _he said, laying thick emphasis on the words,"is Flit's son."

"Flit," Lightfoot said slowly. "Who's that?"

Declan just sighed.

Lightfoot said testily, "Well, it's not like I can keep track of all the ratty-pelted cats in this group. We seem to be getting new members all the time."

It was true. Declan had been in charge of the new training operation for the four or so new cats. It seemed like the threat of the cat-killer—though at bay for now, apparently—had sent them all running for shelter. With the Claws gone—or at least out of the way for now—the Sliders were the only option. The cats could have gone to find some housefolk but they were far too…wild. There was one red tom named Veer that Declan stayed out of the way of: his eyes were even wilder than Lightfoot's.

Lightfoot led him out into the forest. They walked in thick silence for a long time—Declan wasn't brave enough to break it, not with Lightfoot looking so…not herself. There was something untraceably different about her, something other than her thin appearance and harder face. It looked like she was almost…tired.

Fortunately and unfortunately at the same time, Lightfoot once again noticed him looking. "Like what you see?" she said mockingly.

"What's going on with you?" Declan asked, trying not to sound pushy. "It looks like you've lost weight."

Lightfoot looked shocked, which was surprising to him: she usually never showed outward emotions other than anger and coldness. "Does it?"

"Yes," he said slowly, watching her closer now. She was walking with a slight limp in one of her front paws, and he could tell that she'd injured it somehow and it'd healed badly. _So she's keeping secrets from the Sliders, _he thought. _From Lucky. This must be something really bad. _"You're not… You're not in trouble, are you?"

She laughed, the sound hollow and humorless. "Ah, Declan," she sighed, closing her eyes as if remembering something sweet. "You are far too kind-hearted. Can you believe that you're the only one who noticed? Well, I suppose you can, what with Lucky being too busy with—Well, I won't talk about that."

Declan hesitated, actually coming to a stop along the path.

Lightfoot said immediately, "That's not a good idea. Not with where we are."

"And where are we?" Declan looked around. It looked like any other part of the Sliders' territory: smudgy gray path in front of them, trees heavy beneath their gold-and-red foliage, the undergrowth wild and tangled with ivy and brambles.

Lightfoot looked a bit smug. "Listen."

And he did. Closing his eyes to help him focus, he strained his ears for any noise.

It came slowly, as his senses usually did: he sometimes wondered if that was an affect of being a housecat.

Water. That was the rain coming. Leaves shifting from the raising wind. The soft even breathing of Lightfoot beside him, the swish of the breeze through her long fur.

And then he heard it: housefolk machines.

"A road?" He opened his eyes, surprised. "We're near that no-pelt place, aren't we?"

Lightfoot nodded. "I've come here almost every day for… Well, for a long time. Many moon cycles."

Declan just stared at her. "_Why?"_

Lightfoot looked away at that, her tail flicking. "I… I can trust you, can't I, Declan?"

"Of course," he said immediately.

"And by that I mean, you won't repeat this to anyone, will you? Not Lucky. Not Twist." Her eyes were sharp as ice now as she watched him. "No one."

Declan hesitated at that. "If it's something you're keeping from Lucky, I don't think I can—"

Lightfoot cut him off smoothly: "Oh, there's plenty that's kept from Lucky. You think that he knows everything about this forest? He knows what I tell him. I'm his eyes and ears out here now that Viktor's not his little stooge. It seems that if you want to keep close allies, you shouldn't have open brawls with them."

Declan remembered that moment, at the pitch of the tension between the Claws and Sliders. Viktor had actually taken over command of the group, if only momentarily. It had been enough to snap Lucky out of his resentful silence, and it had been enough to help them win the battle.

Declan hadn't noticed Lucky and Viktor growing apart. He'd always assumed that Viktor would be Lucky's second-in-command, ready to help out whenever he could. _I guess things change, _he thought, sighing a bit heavily. _Time changes everything, whether you want it to or not._

Lightfoot let out a humming sound. "You're much higher up in the Sliders now, aren't you? Despite it all."

"Despite all what?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, come on," Lightfoot scoffed, tossing her head. "Don't be a moron. You know what I'm talking about." Her head fell below her shoulders, her eyes glowing as if lit from behind. "The smoke-treatment."

"Ah," Declan said. "That."

It occurred to him suddenly that Lightfoot was the only other cat in the Sliders he could talk to about smoke-treating. His friend Kaltag had shut the memory tight up inside his brain, hiding it away from his conscious mind, it seemed. Declan wished he could do the same but he was terrified if by forgetting he'd gone through that torture that it would repeat itself.

Nothing could ever be as agonizing as the look on Twist's face when she thought he'd forgotten her. He'd rather run through a forest on fire than ever have to see that expression again.

"Yes," Lightfoot said, her voice musing. She stepped lightly to the side, circling him as he stood silent against his memories. "That. I rather thought you'd come to me earlier about that. I thought we were close, Declan."

"We are, aren't we?" he asked. "We're friends."

She scoffed again, stopping her pacing, as if he'd disappointed her. "I don't have friends," she said haughtily, as if the very thought of friendship disgusted her. "Didn't I tell you earlier? I think that friendship is another word for weakness. You can only be brave for so long before you're stupid, and nothing brings that about more often than _love._" Rolling her eyes, she added, "What is love, anyway? Fondness for someone, something? Trust? I trust cats—a few chosen ones—but I don't love them. There is no advantage to caring. Love is a construct created solely for the purpose of manipulation, whether you mean to or not."

"That's not true!" Declan found himself protesting. "Loving something makes you want to protect it. Nothing is more important than love, I don't think. Love makes you strong, even when you're frightened."

"You were very frightened back with the Claws, weren't you?" she asked softly, her voice almost deadly calm.

The question struck Declan. He hadn't been scared back then—he'd accepted everything without question, as Leo. But now that he thought back to it, the horror of those moon cycles washed over him, cold and sickly as if he'd dove into ice water. The terror he'd felt deep within his chest, crushing the air from his lungs, had only surfaced when Twist had been threatened by her father. _Then_ he had been scared.

But he couldn't tell Lightfoot that. He couldn't even tell Twist.

So he said, "No. I would risk anything, everything I have, to save someone I loved."

"At the cost of your own life? Or others' lives?" she asked skeptically, her head to the side. "Nothing's worth more to me than the Sliders—you know that. That's exactly why we're out here."

Declan was frustrated. "Then what's with all this talk about love and trust?"

"I just wanted a second opinion. Thank you for giving me the answer I sought." She turned without another word

"You are incredibly frustrating," he said matter-of-factly, picking up his pace to follow her once again.

With remarkable sweetness, which after that speech Declan was confidant was entirely fictitious, she said, "Oh, Declan. I'm a she-cat. Being frustrating is as innate as having whiskers."

XXXXX

Lightfoot crouched next to him in the bramble-patch. "There," she whispered, barely speaking. She nodded ahead. "That's where I saw him."

Declan swallowed hard.

Ahead of them was a no-pelt place. It wasn't Spirit's, but a little further away, a little more away from the mountains. The houses were small and tightly-packed, with brightly-colored fronts and brown roofs. Each had a tidy little yard of bright green grass hemmed in by white fences with spaces wide enough for a cat to pass through.

Declan said, "I still don't know why we're here."

"Shh," Lightfoot said, her body tense. "Follow me." She dove out of the bush, seeming not to notice when the thorns raked through her pelt. And, after a hushed curse, Declan followed.

They ran across the main road, which was empty of no-pelt machines, and into the nearest yard. It had a huge oak tree, its wide limbs sheltering them from the rising sun. Declan was about to ask Lightfoot what they were doing there when she leapt again, running between two houses to the back.

There was a wide open space back there, filled with long, thin grass that had feathery fringe on the top. It bent out of the way of Lightfoot's wide strides, leaving a channel for Declan to follow her.

A grasshopper bounced off its perch and nearly onto Declan's eye out of fright; it landed between his eyes, resting there for a moment.

Letting out a hushed yelp and crossing his eyes to see it, Declan didn't notice the stick ahead until his paw caught on it and he fell forward onto his face, his chin hitting the ground hard enough for him to see stars.

The grasshopper, having clung to Declan's fur the entire way down, blithely leapt away, spreading its buzzing wings to take flight.

Groaning, Declan hauled himself into a sitting position, shaking his head. Bits of grass stuck to his ears, tickling the insides. He shook his head again.

"I told you to watch it." He looked up to see Lightfoot stalking over, anger in every line of her body. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I was having a…minor problem."

Lightfoot took in his untidy fur, the grass still on his face. "You did something stupid, didn't you?"

Declan said, flushed and self-conscious, "Perhaps."

Lightfoot just rolled her eyes.

They kept running. Declan didn't even know why except that Lightfoot told him to. If it were any other cat, he would probably have gone home already or asked for more information or just stopped in place and refused to go any further. But since it was Lightfoot, and she was so exceptionally bizarre and curious, he went along with it and hoped that she wasn't leading him into danger.

The scent of something warm and dry hit him before he understood what the construction in front of him was.

"Horses." Lightfoot came back to him, out of breath and panting. She looked calmer now but there was something very alive in her eyes that made Declan worried. "Big things that those no-pelts ride around on. Don't worry, they don't live here anymore."

"Lightfoot, why are we even _here?"_

She didn't seem to hear him. "We have to get into the rafters," she said, almost to herself. She put her head to the side and from Declan's angle, it looked like her entire head was black, like a shadow. Then she turned and he could see the bright white fur on her cheeks and muzzle. "Come on."

Getting up into the old building, which was as patchy on the inside as it was on the outside, proved to be more difficult than he would have thought. Lightfoot, who was longer-legged than he was, found purchase in places he couldn't even see let alone replicate. She bounded to the top, her long tail hanging down from one of the wooden struts at the very top.

"Not there," she mouthed, when he tried to use her path. "Go to the center."

Declan was frustrated. His belly was yowling for food, his paws hurt from running so far, and his pelt was laced with scratches from the bramble that were beginning to itch. The last thing he wanted to do was make a hassle out of climbing.

But he obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

He'd only gotten halfway to the backside of the building when he was attacked from behind. Claws pierced his fur, making him hiss in fury as he turned on his attacker.

It was a young white tom. To Declan's shock, he was wearing a red collar, complete with a tiny golden bell. _A pet!_

"You're not supposed to be here!" the tom hissed, crouching down low to attack. His posture was laughably poor, his stance weak and inconsistent. Declan could tell at one glance that he could best this tom in a fight and it would be unfairly easy.

"I'm sorry," Declan said, already backing away; the tom followed his movements with bright suspicious eyes. "There must be a mistake. My friend and I were just—"

The tom straightened abruptly. "Another one? Come here! Come on, I found him! He's in here!"

Declan turned to follow his gaze, alarm weighing heavily in his stomach when he saw three cats approaching.

The one in front was clearly the leader, a tall but rather slender black tom with bright cutting green eyes. He strode right up to Declan, the tags on his collar jingling.

"What are you doing here?" the tom asked, pure disgust in his voice.

Declan was taken aback. "Look, I don't know what you're so angry about. If I'm intruding, I'm sorry. I'll leave immediately, but—"

"How did you get here? Who are you? Where are you from?" The tom seemed disinterested in everything Declan was saying, talking right over the top of him.

"Uhh." Declan's mind clicked those questions into place so he could answer them in order. "I walked here from my territory. I'm Declan. I'm from a ways away from here, in the Sliders' territory—"

He realized immediately that was the wrong thing to say.

The tom's eyes sharpened until they were horribly narrow; Declan could see the whites all the way around the green. "The Sliders," he hissed. "Lower brook cats?"

"I s-supposed you could say that." Declan stepped backwards one pace at a time, hunched close to the ground. _This isn't good. _"Look, I'll leave. I promise. You can escort me if you want but my friend and I can just—"

"Your friend," the tom said. "Where's the other cat? Tell me. Now!" He practically screamed the last word.

_I'll kill her for this, _Declan thought wildly, fear racing with the pace of his heart. "She's…she was right here with me but she left," he invented quickly. "I wanted to investigate the area."

"Why?"

"It's a new territory."

"So you murderous cowards could take it over, is that right? So you could try and dominate the Watchers and kill us all?"

_Watchers? _The word was unfamiliar. "Um, I wouldn't classify that as our top priority, no."

Getting right up in Declan's face, the tom bared his fangs. They were a whisker-width from Declan's eyes. "Don't get cute with me, killer. I know what you've done."

A hollow thud of horror rang through Declan's heart. "Wh-what?"

"You and your kind. You kill cats that aren't the same, don't you? You go and kill all of the ones, even the innocent." The tom was breathing heavily, his eyes out of control. "Isn't that right? Now _tell me where the she-cat is!"_

That was when Declan found himself pinned beneath the cats' claws, looking up into the terrible fearful hateful gaze of the black tom.

"If you don't tell me where she is, and where you're planning to strike next, so help me, I will rip out your eyes, one at a time, so you can watch your own blood run out." He was pacing tightly, back and forth, so quickly and aggressively that he was wearing a hole in the hay-strewn ground.

"I told you I don't know!" Declan insisted. He didn't want to beg but it was getting serious now: these cats meant business. "Please, I'll go, I won't come back here. You have to believe me. My friend and I mean no harm to you. None—"

"That means nothing to me!" The tom hissed furiously then, to punctuate his words. "The word of a killer is worth nothing! You're all a bunch of vicious killers, ready to try and murder us all in our sleep! Well, I won't let you! I'll strike first before you lot touch anything of mine!"

He raised his paw claws unsheathed, and swung it at Declan's face.

Declan closed his eyes, too much of a coward to look death in the face.

Someone leapt in the way.

The black tom checked his blow just in time but he still scraped the cat's fur. She let out a hiss of indignation.

And for one wild moment, Declan thought it was Lightfoot, come back for him after leading him into this trap. The she-cat in front of him, cloaked in the shadows of the patchy ceiling, was certainly pale enough to be Lightfoot from this angle.

But then she turned and Declan saw her eyes, like beautiful sunlight broken over water.

"Oh no," he heard himself say, as if at a distance. He couldn't remember opening his mouth. He couldn't even remember how to breathe.

It was Dahlia.

* * *

><p><strong>Da daaaa! I mean, this was probably obvious, given my heavy-handed foreshadowing in the earlier chapters. XD I'm not really good at this whole "plot" thing, since I prefer to focus on characters, so I'm trying to get a stable storyline moving for practice.<strong>

**Also, I have a new obsession, which all of you should go and join in with me, if you haven't already, you nerdy nerds, you. XD It's a show called Sherlock, which is a modern-day Sherlock Holmes kinda deal. It is ripe with a ridiculous amount of shipping and bromanceness and aaaaaah~ it is amazingly amazing. Unfortunately, it has only six episodes, and the next season won't be out until 2013. AAH.**

**I will survived the up-and-coming so-called quote/unquote end of all days December 22nd or whenever the media has appointed the apocalypse just so I can have some more Johnlock. Mmm~ I ship them so hard, guys, and the best part is that THE ENTIRE INTERNET does, too. And people in Sherlock's own universe. XD**

**Lololol. I'm such a nerd. X3**

**Anyway.**

**You know what to do~**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**

**WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT.**

**Y'all should go and check out reenakitty's poems called "Forever in the Dark" as they are delightful and insightful and angsty. And she wrote one about Twist that made me literally squee for realz. It was delightful. XD**

**Okay, now you can go. See ya guys next time~! :D**


	15. Light and Dark

**Aaw, now I've got "Exile Vilify" stuck in my head and it's not gonna go away until FOREVER. I listened to it while writing this chapter, so that is probably why it's so melancholy. =\ Combined with The National's "Sorrow," which I found from the breathtakingly-amazing Sherlock fic "Alone on the Water." AAAAH IT IS BEAUTIFUL.**

**Oh, and remember that whole plot thing we talked about yesterday? That's starting.**

**Like, right now.**

**Onto the chapter~**

* * *

><p>Dahlia said, "Don't touch him. He's with me."<p>

Declan felt the breath freeze in his body, his muscles charged with shock as strong as if he'd been electrocuted. It didn't seem like he could tear his eyes from her, even though her expression was drawn in scorn for the black tom, who was just as astonishingly looking as though he was considering her words.

But then the tom frowned, his ears going flat. "Stand aside, Dahlia. This is none of your concern."

"I told you," Dahlia said more emphatically, her tail lashing behind her with quick, sudden strokes. "He's with me. I'm the she-cat he was talking about." She turned to Declan then, her eyes soft again. "I can't believe you didn't tell them it was me. I'm sorry I forgot to mention I knew they were around here. You ran ahead of me and I just couldn't do anything about it." Her eyes flashed. _Play along._

And Declan, despite his rising surge of uneasiness at her appearance, obeyed. "Sorry, Dahlia."

"Dahlia, explain this," the black tom hissed, his eyes darting between Declan and the she-cat with undisguised suspicion.

Dahlia watched Declan for a moment longer before elegantly tossing her head. "We met during my internment at the Sliders' camp. I needed an ally there and so I found one. He is quite on our side; no need to worry. He doesn't even know about the problem."

_What problem? _Declan felt calmer now but his fur still bristled with unease. Dahlia hadn't even spoken to him but a few passing words since he rejected her those moon cycles ago. He'd thought he'd been clear when he said he was done with her. But that nameless captivation was still about her, exuding from her like warm, poisonous sunlight. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how she had such power over him.

The tom looked appeased, but only just. "Fine. If you want this tom to be your friend, so be it. Just let me know next time before you bring some stranger into our territory." His green eyes were sharp as they fixed on Declan. "And you. Don't come near this place again unless you're ready to enlist. Though we could use more eyes down in the lower brook…"

Declan knew better than to ask anything else. Dahlia was shooting him claw-sharp looks over the black tom's shoulder. "Sorry for the disturbance."

The tom let out a sound of acceptance. He raised his head higher on his neck until he was a head above Declan, his expression begrudgingly curious as he looked down his nose. "Declan, is it? My sister has told me much about you."

"Your sister?" Declan echoed, being cut off very abruptly by Dahlia, who talked rather loudly right over his words.

"Oh, Blackjack," she purred, rubbing her shoulder against the tom's. "You shouldn't be saying such sweet things to someone you just met." Her golden eyes caught Declan's gaze and they brightened. She curled her tail around Blackjack's neck possessively. "My brother is so silly, don't you agree, Declan?"

They looked positively nothing alike. Where Dahlia's fur was so cream it was almost white, her tabby stripes delicate like smoothened river rocks, Blackjack was all shadow. Only a smudge of white on his chest and a brush of it between his eyes showed any other color. Even their eyes were different—Dahlia's gold to his bright green—but they had the same intensity to their gazes that could be nothing else but relation.

It hit Declan very suddenly then, everything. The pieces simply fell into place. Why Dahlia had shown up so suddenly in the woods asking for shelter, why she had been alone and obviously not meant for the forest. Why she'd tried to play with his heart.

_Traitor. _The word hissed through Declan's mind like steam.

Blackjack huffed again, turning to butt heads gently with Dahlia. "Well, go on. You'll come back in a few days like usual? When shall I expect to see you?"

Dahlia trotted away from him, her head tipped delicately to the side. Stopping at Declan's side, entirely too close, she said, "The new moon, most likely."

_ She could sneak out without being noticed then. _Declan's entire body had gone cold, as if he'd swallowed a great lot of ice. _She's been leaving for a long time. Spying on us. Spying on the Sliders. _

Then another thought struck him, more agonizingly terrifying than anything he'd ever felt before: _She knows about Hazel._

Blackjack sent them off, his concern gone. Flicking his tail to his other Watchers, they made their way back out of the barn to what they were doing before—which Declan couldn't even begin to guess. Blackjack's hatred for the Sliders—or whatever he meant by "lower brook cats"—was something that was absolutely had to be reported to Lucky. Immediately.

Halfway out the door, Declan cast his eyes upwards.

A flash of white pelt whirled in the darkness of the rafters, followed by a gleam of eyes.

_So she's seen everything. This was her plan. _Declan felt his throat tighten and he nodded once, just a jerk of his head.

The eyes blinked once, then vanished. Lightfoot would reach Lucky long before he could. Until then, he just had to delay Dahlia.

Dahlia was purring blithely at his side, unknowing of the disbelief boiling just below Declan's pelt. All this time he'd thought she was just a lonely she-cat, innocent of everything, just walking along through life looking for friends. But she'd been a traitor all along, an adder hidden among fragrant flowers, just waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Good job back there," Dahlia said, her voice light and sweet as usual. Declan wondered if he was only imagining the conniving gleam in her sun-colored eyes. "You catch on quickly."

He didn't say anything. He didn't even want to look at her, for fear of how his body would react against his will. Already his heart was beating quickly.

"Why are you out here, Declan?" she asked him, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong back at the Warren?"

"Nope," he said shortly.

That distressed her. "Something's happening, isn't it? Have the Claws returned?" But instead of sounding afraid, something close to eagerness was in her voice. "You don't have to be frightened of them. I know how to deal with them. All of them. They won't bother the Sliders anymore, I promise."

"How could you possibly promise something like that?" He stopped and turned to face her fully for the first time, feeling his fur lift along his spine. "How could you do this, Dahlia? What were you thinking?"

She blinked, her mouth open. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Declan scoffed, feeling instantly like Twist was there with him; that was something she would do. "You're reporting all our secrets to these strange cats?"

Now she looked annoyed. "They aren't strange cats. They're my friends, my family. The Watchers are only looking out for everyone's greater good."

"Your _family? _You told us when you came to us that you had no family."

Looking shyer, her tail low and her ears slightly back, she cast her eyes downwards to where her paw scuffed the long grass. They were in the middle of the field now, with no chance of being overheard.

Dahlia looked up at him through her long eyelashes. "I had to lie to you. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't have another choice. Blackjack told me to go find the lower brook cats so I could see if any bad cats lived there. Luckily, I found the Sliders instead of the Claws."

"How did—" Declan stopped himself physically, closing his jaws and grinding his teeth. Useless questions weren't going to get him anywhere. If Dahlia—who was standing and watching him with innocence in her face and eyes—was going to tell him something, he had to let her talk. For whatever reason, she had decided she was in love with him. That was fine, for now. It would help, even. It would make her talk.

But the thought of using someone like that, being manipulative, was horrendously sickening. Even if it was someone like Dahlia, a cat who was so far lost to her own games and acting, he couldn't do it.

_Twist could, _he thought. _Hazel could. She manipulates me all the time. But I can't do it._

_You have to. _Twist's voice came to him, like it always did. _Just for a little bit. Just see what she says. Don't do anything to sacrifice your heart._

Declan sighed once, briefly. Then he said, "Okay. Tell me. Tell me everything, Dahlia."

XXXXXXXXXX

They found a place just inside the forest, where the sun fell between the golden leaves. As Declan sat, awkwardly on his haunches as he tried to stay as far from Dahlia as he could, he couldn't help but think that this was just like the time last cold-season when he'd been almost convinced he felt something for her. Now he could barely stand to look at her.

She didn't seem to feel quite the same. Laying sprawled out regally, her forepaws crossed, her eyes dancing in the light of the sun, she looked comfortable there.

"Now, Declan," she said, her voice vaguely scolding. "I don't know why you're so upset with me. I haven't done anything wrong at all. At least," she said, a sly tease coming into her voice, "nothing I consider wrong."

She paused a moment with relish, seeming to wait for him to say something. When he was silent, her expression grew more somber.

"I was born here, in this town. I was a pet, my brother and I both. Our mother lived with us. We're the same age, Blackjack and I. It's hard to tell because I'm so much more beautiful than him." Her chin lifted, her expression growing coyer, like she wanted him to agree. "Regardless, that's where I came from.

"It was dangerous growing up, you know. Blackjack and I were just kits when the Claws came." She interrupted her story then and said, "You must understand, Declan, that I am the only one who knows the name of the Claws, and that's only recently. Back then, they were a nameless terror. They stole cats from my home until we were frightened to go out."

Her eyes grew distant as she looked at a point somewhere past Declan's shoulder. "My mother wanted to protect us. The bad cats came for the young ones first. We didn't know what they wanted, only that the ones they took never returned home. We didn't know if they killed them or made them into slaves or what. It was terrifying, that unknown.

"My mother wanted to protect us," she said again, her voice choked. "She wanted us safe. So she made sure we never went outside, that we stayed right in her sight whenever we did, so the bad cats could never take us away. She was very brave, Declan. But…" Her brow furrowed and she swallowed hard.

Declan couldn't help himself. "But they took her, didn't they?" he asked softly. It was hard to keep from trying to comfort her, seeing her in such distress. Despite what he'd seen in the barn, Dahlia was still a hurting she-cat and he wanted to protect her. He didn't know if that was some kind of flaw within himself or another one of her tricks.

Dahlia looked up at him, faint surprise in her eyes. "Yes. And Blackjack and I went after her.

"They were deep in the forest, further in than we'd ever gone before. Blackjack is much better at following scent than I am so he led the way. We should have brought someone else with us but we were just kits and… Well, we didn't.

"My mother was pinned beneath a cat's claws when we found her. A horrible monster of a cat—big and dark and with such cruelty in his eyes. But the strangest part of him was his eyes. One black. One blue."

_ The Rogue. _Declan felt a shiver run all the way down his spine. He felt sick, his stomach turning. _She's been hurt by the Rogue, too. _Then he stopped himself: Twist would disapprove of his sympathy.

Dahlia's voice was strained as she continued: "He saw us right there, Declan. He ordered for us to stop but we ran. Oh, stars, we ran so fast." Her eyes closed fast. "But he caught us, his cats. All with those horrible different eyes. He dragged us back and told us that we should have obeyed him, that now we had to be punished." She stopped there, her breathing unsteady. She still hadn't opened her eyes. "So he killed her, Declan. He killed our mother right in front of us. There was so much blood, the smell was all over me. And the _screams—"_

She cut herself off again, her eyes now open. They were wide and unseeing, and she was shaking. Declan's heart ached for her, especially after witnessing firsthand what the Rogue could do when he wanted to.

"Did they keep you there?" he asked softly.

Dahlia shook his head. "He just…let us go. He said he didn't want disobedient kits in his 'family.'" She spat out the word like poison. "We went back home but we didn't go home. We never went back to that house. Blackjack only has his collar still because he stayed so slender. Not a lot of food when you're not a pet. When he told me to go infiltrate the lower brook cats, which is where we thought we were, he bit mine off so I wouldn't look suspicious."

She turned to him, her eyes pleading. "Declan, you must understand. I told you earlier that I didn't want to hurt the Sliders. That's never been my intention. I came to the Sliders because my brother asked me to, to find out information on the Claws, but… But I don't want that anymore. I don't want to be a spy. I want to come and live with you. I want to be a Slider. I don't want this life of fighting and killing."

Declan heard her but it was hard. _Killing, _he thought. _Do the Watchers kill the marked cats they catch? _

But aloud he said, "I don't think I can trust you."

"Why not?" she rasped, getting up to come closer to him. She laid at his feet, her paws reaching to cover his. "I'll be loyal, I promise. I'll be the most loyal Slider there is. I'll do anything."

Declan didn't curse her but he didn't move his paws away either. "I don't believe you."

"Why?" she cried. "Is it because of what I did before? Is it because of the way I feel for you? Please don't hate me because of that. I can't help it."

"You can," he said, and now he withdrew his paws. "I told you before, I can't be yours. Not ever."

"I know that," she whispered, her eyes darting between his. "I believed you. I know that you love her, and not me. I don't understand but I know you believe that. Wait, wait!" she called as Declan moved away, anger at her insult to Twist forcing his movements. "I'm sorry, Declan. Oh, stars, I'm so sorry. Please listen to me. I can explain everything!"

Declan whirled to face her. She looked desperate, her body twisted on the ground in front of him, her eyes upturned, nearly wild fear in them.

"You say you want to be a Slider and that you'll be loyal but that hasn't stopped you from coming back here," he said stiffly.

"It's just blood," she said, her voice shaking. "Nothing more than blood. My brother, he's all I have left. Blackjack might be cruel now but he's not evil. I keep him in line. He doesn't know what he's doing is wrong. He's just—" She cut herself off quickly, her eyes widening with terror.

"Wh—" Declan's breath was suddenly gone, his heartbeat very loud in his ears. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, standing abruptly. She didn't even shake the leaves off her fur. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh," Declan said softly. _"Oh. _Now I get it. You're not just a spy for him. You…you _scout out _the cats he wants, don't you? He's… Oh, stars." He felt like he would be sick right there. "He's the killer. He's the one who's been killing the cats. The _marked _cats."

It made perfect sense now. All of the cats who'd died had been marked. That was why Sorrow had been so scared for the dregs of the Claws. She'd told Lucky and Declan himself as much. The killer aimed for those cats who had mismatched eyes.

_She was so desperate to stay, _he thought, his mind reeling. _And we sent her right back out into the claws of the murderer._

Dahlia was staring at him with blank shock. "No," she whispered. "That's not true."

"The fur," Declan said feverishly, his entire body shaking with the realization. "The fur we found, before you even got here. White fur. Blackjack has white fur on his chest." Pacing quickly in a circle, keeping his eyes on Dahlia, he went on: "Jaybird, Bronze. The Claws. Stars, he's after everyone, isn't it?"

Dahlia was licking her lips quickly. "Declan, stop. Stop talking."

"You're even more of a traitor than I thought you were!" Declan said, his voice high-pitched in his fear. "You've been spying on the Sliders all this time so you could send them straight to your brother! You probably brought him right to Bronze and Jaybird!" He stopped in front of her, her fear-scent strong in his nostrils. "How could you do that, Dahlia? Don't you have a heart?"

"Of course," she breathed, trembling. "If you'll let me explain, I—"

"No," he said coldly. "You're done. You and your brother. I'll make sure that Lucky hears about this." _If Lightfoot hasn't already filled him in, _he thought. The she-cat could be anywhere, listening in.

Declan turned and stalked away, back to the path he'd taken to get here. Within the day, Lucky would know about the Watchers and their plans—however little Declan knew—and about Dahlia. She would be turned out into the forest, or back to her twisted brother.

"Don't!" she cried from behind him. "Declan, _please! _Don't leave me!"

He ignored her, closing his eyes against her pleas.

But she wouldn't be left behind. She ran alongside him, her eyes on his face; he could feel them like concentrated sunlight. "Declan, listen. Be _rational. _Why would I tell you all of this just to have you condemn me for it?"

"You're a cold-hearted she-cat," he said, refusing to look at her.

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I've been with the Sliders for so long, Declan. Nearly twelve moon cycles. And I've never reported anyone to Blackjack. No one. Not Bronze and not Jaybird."

"The first day you got here, Jaybird turned up dead. I never noticed that before but now it doesn't really seem like a coincidence anymore, does it?"

"Why are you being like this?" she whispered, raw hurt in her voice. "You're being so cold."

"You're the cold one! You brought cats to their death to feed some sort of sick revenge!" He turned on her and she cowered back, as if she thought he would strike her. That was what calmed him down, that fear in her eyes; he'd seen fear in the eyes of Twist before, back when he was Leo. After a long, deep breath, he said, "Dahlia. Do you deny that you've brought marked cats to your brother?"

For a long moment, she said nothing. She just looked at him, between his eyes, as if she was trying to discern meaning from his expression.

"No," she said.

Declan said, "Then you're as good as a murderer."

She was so stunned that she seemed frozen. Declan turned from her, the wind gusting across his fur, brushing it flat against his head. He closed his eyes against the stinging strands, feeling each numbed step in time with his steady heartbeat.

"Declan!" she called but he didn't turn around. "If… If you tell about Blackjack, then I'll…I'll…"

Summoning up his best image of Twist when she was being strong, he turned to face her sidelong, hoping his face fell into the right mask of cold indifference.

Dahlia looked like she was struggling against the words, her jaw clamped tight, her eyes narrowed. "Don't tell Lucky," she said, her voice shaking so badly he could barely understand her. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Don't tell him," she said, sounding more confident.

"Or what?" Declan demanded.

She lifted her chin arrogantly and Declan could see the shadow of her brother on her face. "Or I'll tell Blackjack about Hazel."

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaay! Now I must ask, because I'm deviously curious, does this chapter make Dahlia more sympathetic or more hated? XD<strong>

**Oh, man, I'm going to be late now. Y'all better appreciate this quick update, now. I should have been writing a paper on the use of color words and nature in William Wordsworth's poetry as it stands in comparison to Joanna Baille's work. DOESN'T THAT SOUND LIKE FUN?**

**Now I'm gonna go eat pizza and watched Sherlock with my friends. XD I swear, I am entirely too addicted to that show. I've seen the entire six episodes like three times each now and I'm gonna go watch it all again later tonight. IT IS SO GOOD. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THESE FEELS. **

**Along similar lines, if you guys follow my fics, you know that I have two black thumbs when it comes to plants. Well, my friend tried to change that by giving me a baby plant to take care of and making me feel bad for mistreating it. So now I make sure he has enough water and light and that it's not too cold for him, just so I can prove to her that I can take care of living things.**

**And I named him Benedict. He's skinny and tall and long. Just like his namesake.**

**Unfortunately, he's not as sexy. But as far as plants go, I can say with complete conviction that he's a sexy, sexy pothos. XD**

**And now with that little narrative over, TO SHERLOCK!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow **


	16. Give and Take

**I'm really rather enjoying these shorter chapters. And it's nice to get some feedback for writing, which is always appreciated. ^.^ **

**My text is gray here. Why is it gray? I hope it's not gray when this posts, though that would be kind of awesome. XD**

**Oh, and I didn't know you guys liked the review replies so much, so I'll do those now. XD**

**Icestar0921 - She is a creeper. I agree. XD I do have a lot of fun writing her, since people out here in RL seem to hate her while everyone in there IU doesn't seem to have the same sentiment. Especially the dudes. But dudes can be so stupid sometimes. XD**

**RowebotRowe - She meant tell Blackjack about Hazel, as Hazel is marked. That means that she would be on his hit-list, if Dahlia told him about her. Does that make more sense? And that pizza was DELICIOUS. It had bacon on it. I didn't even know pizza could have bacon on it. I was pleased. XD**

**Mistyflower68 - Thanks! I'm glad you like it so much! -flattered- Also, I love your penname. Very pretty~**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Hmm, yeah, that seems to be the overall opinion. X3 As her creator, I have to say that she's very fun to write about. I've never written a character who was half as manipulative as Dahlia. X3**

**theDiabolical - Perfectly understandable. I've looooong lost interest in Warriors. These fics are more like my own ideas, but everyone is a cat. XD Good to see you back, though! :D**

**Shadowmist1999 - Here's a review reply! I did them just for you, Shadow-chan! (I don't know what to call you, because you have the same shortened name as me. XD) Hee~ Declan is my favorite, too. I love his easily-panicking doofy self, mostly because I like boys like that in RL. X3 Heehee~ I love you too! I keep rereading your lovely poem on Twist. So beautiful~**

**Tangleflame - Heeeeee~ You're so sweet to meeeee. Honestly, I love all you guys. You guys are the reason I've continued to write this kinda stuff, since y'all seem to like it. X3**

**Okay. Enough chitter-chatter.**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

><p>"Mm," Twist said, tipping her head to the side. "No, further in. It'll get wet if you leave it there."<p>

Hazel sighed heavily and rolled her eyes but obeyed, dutifully pushing her nest closer to the inside of the box-nest. "Like that?"

Twist, realizing that Hazel was getting annoyed with her, mischievously said, "No, that's too far in. You'll get cold."

"You're doing this on purpose!" Hazel stamped her forepaw in irritation, shoving the nest messily back towards the opening of the den.

Twist watched her, amused. Hazel was getting more ornery by the day, and it seemed like she would have her mother's quick tongue. _It's almost like she really is Snit's daughter, _she thought, burrowing more deeply into her own nest of feathers; it smelled like Declan. _She definitely has his mouth._

Hazel brushed the shreds of moss and downy fluff back into a pile, standing in the center and turning a few times to make sure it held its shape. Her brow was furrowed with concentration. From this angle, Twist could only see her blue eye. Despite her mother, Hazel hadn't inherited green eyes, not even one. As she turned her head to look for Twist's approval, Twist could see the gold in her eyes, not quite the same shade Snit's had been.

Snit. Twist missed him. He had always, always looked out for the Sliders. Even when she had doubted him and thought him a traitor. She could hardly believe, even after all this time, that he was really gone. But she'd been to his grave many times, and she'd been there comforting Audrey during the entire affair. The poor ginger she-cat had seemed so broken… No wonder she had left this place to find comfort somewhere else.

Hazel cleared her throat significantly and Twist realized she must have spoken. "What?"

"I said, is this okay?" Hazel looked at her speculatively, as if she thought Twist had simply lost her mind for a few moments.

"Yes, fine." Twist turned her head away so Hazel couldn't try to read her expression.

"You were thinking about something?" Hazel asked, coming to sit in front of her. She was small, tiny even, with the same light-boned build as her mother. Twist could see a lot of Audrey in her kit, from her pretty angled eyes to her small pointed face. Sometimes when Hazel wasn't paying attention, just staring off into space, Twist half-thought she could see Audrey looking out from behind her eyes.

Twist said, "Yeah, I guess."

"What?"

Twist hesitated. She was always so tentative to give out details of Snit, in case she said the wrong thing and planted doubt in Hazel's mind. She had always assumed that Snit was her father—it was what Audrey wanted—but Twist was still unsure. There was always the chance she could mix the details and ruin Hazel's innocence.

It was the same with the Claws. Hazel had always asked but Twist had kept her in the dark—for some things. She had told Hazel when she was younger that the Claws wanted Lucky gone and the Sliders, too, and she'd told her about her own internment at their camp. Declan's too.

But she hadn't told Hazel about the killer, or the Claws with marked eyes. Hazel already lived in a cruel world; the way Twist saw it, those things could wait until she was older, when she would understand better…

Twist shook her head briskly. "Nothing much."

"Uh-huh." Hazel narrowed her eyes. "Keeping secrets. I see."

Scoffing, Twist reached out and gently cuffed her about the ears. "Don't be a brat, brat."

Ducking out from beneath her paw, Hazel said, "That's the best you can do? 'Brat?'"

"It fits, so why not?" Twist asked blithely, getting to her paws and stretching each leg in turn. The weather was cold outside, despite the steadily rising sun. It was halfway to midday and Declan was still gone. Twist didn't know where he was or why he was gone, but she wasn't concerned. He could go do whatever he wanted, just so long as he came back eventually. Though she was lonely without him. She sighed tightly.

"Oh, come on." Twist turned to Hazel, who was rolling her eyes. "You're doing that face again."

"What face?" Twist demanded sharply.

Hazel looked blandly at Twist, her mouth quirking. "That face you do when you're thinking about Declan. Like this." She put on a moony, dewy look, her eyes distant and sad, her ears back.

Twist felt slightly mollified. "I don't do that look."

"Yes you do," Hazel argued. "Every time you're not with him, you act like it's the end of the world. He only went out for awhile. You think you'd have gotten used to it by now." She rolled her eyes again. "His so-called sleepwalking. I think he does it to get some fresh air away from you."

_Enough. _Twist growled. Prowling over to Hazel, who seemed to have realized she'd spoken out of turn and was quickly backtracking, she said, "Cheeky brat. It's a good thing I made a promise to your mother that I'd keep you safe or you'd be down sleeping in the wet dirt with the other kits your age."

Hazel didn't want to back down, though; Twist could see it in her eyes. "Good!" she said loudly. "Then put me down there. I can go live with Streak and not have to take all your rubbish all the time. I'm not a kit, you know! I only have another two moon cycles and I'll be a _real_ Slider. Then you won't have anything to say to me!"

_That's what you think. _"It doesn't stop the fact that your tongue's too quick for your own good. You can talk all the rubbish you want to me, but try that on Lucky. He'll have you cleaning out the old rotten garbage on the far-side for _days."_ It stank there, like decay and spoiled meat. That made it serve as the most excellent punishment for rebellious young cats.

Hazel snorted, raising her chin. "I'm not afraid of Lucky." But her back was arched, her fur bristling.

_What a liar. _Hazel was far too outspoken for Twist's tastes. The young she-cat used to be so sweet, kind and quiet and shy, but then fire had caught in her heart. That fire needed to be stoked, otherwise it would burn out of control.

"Hazel," Twist said calmly, trying to keep her voice level. "You can't talk like that."

"I'll talk how I want," Hazel huffed, flouncing over to the doorway. She paused halfway out, her eyes still narrowed. "And I don't appreciate your nosiness. I can do what I want."

"And you'll be punished for doing the wrong things!" Twist snapped. "Is that what you want? To make mistakes and end up having to fight back to the place you were before? If you would just _listen _for once, you'd learn something!"

Hazel curled her lip. "Sorry," she spit out. "But I don't want to learn anything from _you_ today." And then she bounded out the entranceway and out into the box-nests.

Twist hissed furiously once she was gone. Turning on the spot, she raked her claws out at her own nest, ripping free a long winding piece of moss. "That little _brat,_" she snarled beneath her breath, her chest heaving. "Everything I do isn't enough for her!"

In a way, Twist was proud that Hazel was such a strong young cat. On the other paw, she was driving Twist completely insane with her unpredictability and her recklessness.

Closing her eyes, Twist took in a deep breath through her nose, forcing her fur to lie flat, then went to go find Hazel.

XXXXXXXXX

"Streak," Twist said, sweeping into his den. He was sprawled across the floor, his long legs hanging out the opening; she delicately stepped over them, padded up to his head, and nudged his cheek with her paw. "Streak, wake up."

He sat up quickly, too quickly; his eyes swam in and out of focus, still dizzy from sleep. "What? What?" Then he focused, blinking quickly. "Oh, hi, Twist! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. Don't you have duties today?"

Streak sat up straight and shook his head. The fur on his head was lying half-crushed against his ears. He yawned widely, licking his whiskers smooth as he closed his mouth. He was getting longer and taller every day, that kittish gawkiness still with him. "No, not today. It's my off-day." His voice was confused as he added, "Come to think of it, why am I still sleeping? Hazel should have—" Then he shut his mouth quickly. "Uh, I mean—nothing."

"No, go on." Twist felt the familiar curl of anger in her belly. "Hazel should be here. But she's not. So where is she?"

Scratching his ear with a hind paw, Streak tried to look like the picture of innocence. It didn't work. "Um, I dunno."

"Cut it out. Tell me. Now."

Streak looked pained. Then, hesitant and lurching, he said, "I don't know. She disappears sometimes and I don't know where she goes."

Her heart plummeted. "_What?"_ she hissed, leaning closer. "What do you mean, Streak? Disappears? To where?"

"I don't know!" He looked alarmed…and guilty. "It's been happening for awhile but…"

"But you said nothing." Twist felt a sour pang of disappointment in her belly. But her disappointment was quickly lost in the heat of her fury. Streak _knew _better than to do this. "Why didn't you tell me about this, Streak? You know what's at stake here. You were there when it all went down."

"I know," he said wretchedly, twisting his head away. "I tried to keep track of her but… I just don't know where she goes. She waits until I'm sleeping or distracted with something and it's like she just drops off the earth. I have no clue where she's going."

"But she's going outside?" Twist's mind was clicking, trying to drop the pieces into order. "She's tracked in a lot of dirt recently… Maybe she's found one of the old holes from the battle." She closed her eyes tight, trying to concentrate. The dirt smelled damp, so it must have been close to the brook. The far-side was the closest to the water: it must have been that one.

Streak's eyes were concerned. "What should I do? I know that I'm… Well, I'm supposed to be her…"

"You were assigned to this task, Streak. You're her guardian first, friend second." Twist felt sympathetic for the young tom but that wouldn't stop her from scolding him for this. "You wanted this job, remember. We could have just as easily given it to your brother."

That got his attention. Yellow eyes sparking, he said a little sharply, "This is my job. I know that. I volunteered to be Hazel's guardian."

Twist nodded. "Good. So go find her. Search the outside if you have to. Just make sure she's back." It felt like ants were swarming through Twist's fur. Anxiety bit like an adder at her mind, filling it with numbing poison. Hazel's eyes put her at risk—the killer could be anywhere and anyone. Being marked in this world was a death-warrant.

Streak nodded, getting to his paws. Twist hadn't noticed that he'd grown taller than her, though his chest and shoulders were still narrow with youth. He was a strong young cat, there was no doubting that. What made Twist doubt him was the look in his eyes when he was around Hazel.

Twist knew that love was a dangerous disadvantage. That lesson, despite her meeting with Declan and falling for him, had not disappeared. It stuck with her, clinging with thorn-sharp claws to the inside her mind. She knew that Declan could be used against her—and had been, when she was with the Claws—and every day she suffered for what had happened then. If she'd listened to the old laws of her mother's gang—Stripes' gang—this would never have happened to her.

But for all of that, Twist was a hypocrite, and being with Declan and Hazel both was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Twist watched Streak now, trying to see if she could catch that rare gleam in his eyes, that of affection, but it wasn't there. It was only there when Hazel was.

Weary, Twist said, "Go find her." Then she turned and left, not looking around as Streak flew out of the den and down the path.

Twist's mind was buzzing with fear. Hazel could have wandered right into the claws of the killer. Despite her orneriness to Twist and sometimes to Declan, Hazel was trusting. She would believe what anyone said on the outside, and that made her a target. If she wasn't careful—and she wasn't—Hazel could find herself in a sticky situation.

Sighing, Twist let her paws take her away, her mind lost in thought. She could go herself and track down Hazel but that would alert Lucky. Whatever she'd said to Hazel earlier that morning—that she would report her—was only that: a threat. It wasn't like Twist would actually do it. She loved Hazel. She wanted her safe. That was it.

So, in Twist's mind, the only option now would be to have Streak find Hazel. He would be calmer, gentler, than Twist could. Hazel would follow him back.

And then Twist would have a few choice words with her young charge.

"Twist!" It was Viktor, his eye gleaming in fear.

Twist's heart plummeted. Racing to Viktor's side, she demanded, "What's wrong?" _Oh, stars, she's been found. She's dead. Oh, Audrey, forgive me. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. _

"Come with me. I'll explain on the way."

Twist followed, her side brushing his. She looked anxiously up into his face, trying to discern his expression. "Viktor, what—"

"Declan and Lightfoot have found the name of a traitor," Viktor said grimly.

Twist felt her heart jolt in her chest. Nearly missing a step, she choked out, "H-how? Who is it? Why didn't Declan say anything to—Never mind. Who is it? Someone in the Sliders?" Her relief for Hazel nearly overwhelmed her confusion that they'd caught a traitor.

Viktor's mouth was a tense line. "It appears that Lightfoot has been tracking them for a long time. She didn't say anything to Lucky so she could keep herself hidden from suspicion." They reached Lucky's den. Posted in front of it were Kent and Gravel, with Marco and Max standing just to the side.

Max looked up with wide eyes as Twist approached. "Twist, can you believe it?" he whispered, his eyes darting to the entrance of the den. "I mean, I never thought that—"

Marco cut him off swiftly, placing a paw atop his friend's muzzle. "Let her see for herself. Though I don't expect you'll show any pity to that filthy traitor, Twist."

Gravel and Kent shared a long look before stepping apart, allowing Viktor and Twist to pass. Softly, Twist reached out and smoothed her pelt down Gravel's; the bond they shared from their joint imprisonment hadn't gone away, nor probably ever would, Twist thought. Though he was back to his normal healthy weight, he had loss in his eyes, something empty there. Twist knew she had that look, too: she'd seen it enough reflected in Declan's green eyes.

Declan himself was standing guard further in. Twist ran to him immediately, and he dipped his muzzle, nuzzling her gently. "Twist," he said, everything needing to be said ringing clear through that single word.

Twist closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment for a few heartbeats before pulling back. "What's happened?"

Something flickered in Declan's eyes, something Twist took to be fear. "It's… Oh, stars, Twist. It's terrible."

Twist looked past him, to where Lucky was standing. He'd had a rock put in and was perched atop it, putting him a head above everyone else. His dark eyes were blazing with barely-tamed fury; he didn't even look up as Twist walked forward, peering around Viktor's tall shoulder to see the cat in the pool of light before him.

It was Dahlia.

Twist hissed at once, her fur rising along her spine. "You!" _I knew it, _she found herself thinking, vicious satisfaction following a split-second later. _I knew she was bad news._

Dahlia looked up, misery in her yellow eyes. "Hello, Twist."

"You're the traitor?" Twist looked to Lucky. "What happened?"

"Lightfoot and Declan have come to the realization that Dahlia is not entirely ours, despite what she says." Lucky's tone was smooth and even, silkily derisive. "She has been leaving us every new moon to go to her friends in the Watchers, whom apparently want us all dead."

"That's a lie," Dahlia cried. Twist took in every aspect about her—her ruffled fur, her back-set ears, her pleading eyes—without a mousetail of pity. "Please, Lucky, believe me! I didn't mean for any of this to—"

Lightfoot laughed, startling Twist nearly out of her fur; she hadn't even realized the vicious she-cat was present, so blended was her dark pelt against the walls of the den. She stepped forward, arrogance in every stride, until she was right over Dahlia. "You little spineless worm," she growled. "We caught you in the middle of a lie. You're finished."

Dahlia shrank away from Lightfoot, her eyes darting to Declan. "Declan, please," she whispered thinly, her voice cracking. "Tell them it wasn't me. Tell them I wasn't doing anything wrong."

With a snarl on her face, Lightfoot said, her tone mimicking the higher-pitch of Dahlia's voice, "'He is quite on our side; no need to worry. He doesn't even know about the problem.'" She turned triumphantly to Lucky. "Clearly they're planning something. The question is _what. _We need to know."

"I didn't mean that!" Dahlia protested. "I had to lie, to save Declan. They would have ki—done horrible things to him." Twist's heart burned at the sound of Declan's name in Dahlia's voice. "I had to protect him. So I lied."

"Tell me your relation with the Watchers," Lucky said evenly, his eyes unblinkingly fixed on Dahlia; she squirmed beneath that stare like an ant caught in the sun.

"Of course," Dahlia said breathlessly. "Of course. I was born there, that's all. Blackjack is my brother. I left them when I joined the Sliders."

"You said you would go back to them every new moon," Lightfoot said viciously, her claws unsheathing. "Were you lying about that, too? Because I've been tracking you for _moon cycles, _you stupid little airhead, and I've noticed every time you've gone out. Every new moon. Every single one for the past twelve moon cycles. Is that just a coincidence, too, you pretty little hypocrite?"

"Lightfoot," Lucky said, and she was silent, though she still watched Dahlia with bright hate in her eyes.

Dahlia was speechless. "Please," was all she said. "I go back to visit my brother. He's all I have."

"Why did you lie and tell us you were a wandering pet, then?" Lucky asked.

"I was," she said.

"You didn't mention a brother," Viktor said.

Dahlia turned to him, placation on her face. Twist hated it. "You never asked," she said.

Twist spoke up for the first time. "You've been feeding the Watchers information on us?"

Dahlia said, "No."

"Liar." Lightfoot raised her head. The word was like a snap of a too-bent stick. "That black tom—Blackjack—seemed deranged to me. He was screaming about how we're all killers here."

Dahlia let out a snide little laugh, clearly regretting it a second later when Lightfoot turned on her. "You're one to be calling another _deranged. _Why else would you stalk a cat for so long?"

"You're not exactly helping your case," Viktor growled.

Dahlia fixed her eyes on him for a moment, then wilted. Curling into a little ruffled ball on the ground, she said pitifully, "Please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't send me away. Don't kill me. Someone will speak for me, I know it. Please."

"No one will speak for you," Lucky said, his words cruel but his tone emotionless. "You are a traitor to the Sliders. If you were in any other group, the punishment for this would be death."

Dahlia let out a wordless cry of horror. But Twist, who was watching all of this with calm detachment, couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for the pale she-cat. She'd brought this on herself.

"However," Lucky went on. "I am not that cat anymore. I am not cruel, like you. I will see who speaks for you. If you can get someone to protect you within the Sliders, I will stay my claws. But you will not be allowed here. Exile will be your punishment, lifelong and inflexible. You will never step paw in the Warren again, on pain of death."

Dahlia didn't even hesitate. Without a word, she turned to Declan, her eyes entreating.

Hatred, dark and bitter as bile, reared up inside of Twist. "Hang on," she started, but Lucky raised a paw to stop her. Her eyes fixing on him, she growled, "Just like that?"

"Silence," Lucky said, watching Dahlia. "Declan, how do you respond to this?"

Declan wasn't looking at Lucky. He wasn't even looking at Twist.

His eyes were fixed on Dahlia, something close to horror in them.

"Declan," Dahlia said, dipping her head. "Please."

Twist bared her fangs. "You can't be—"

Declan turned to look at her. Anguish was in his eyes and in every line of his body. Confused, Twist shook her head, trying to tell him not to do this, to just let them kill her and be done with it. But she could already see the words working up in Declan before he even spoke then, still praying that he would remain silent.

"I will speak for her, Lucky. If you'll let me."

Lucky put his head to the side. "Very unusual, Declan," he said softly. "Are you certain?"

Declan didn't look at Twist. "Yes. Quite certain."

Twist felt betrayal creep into her heart, cold and thick as sheet ice. Turning her head sharply away, she refused to look at him.

Lucky made a sound of surprise. Then he said, "Be as it will. Dahlia, you will be escorted from this place. Do not return, or I shall make certain you regret it. Viktor, if you will…" He turned away then, turning his back on Dahlia, on the situation, on everything, and Viktor took charge.

"With me, Dahlia," he said, his voice very remote. He looked sympathetically at Twist, bending his head to gently touch his nose to her cheek. "Be strong," he said, softly. "Remember that there are reasons behind reasons." Then he left, taking Dahlia with him.

Twist did not miss the blinding gratitude the pale she-cat sent Declan.

Twist waited for a moment, hoping against hope that Lucky would say something, that he would give her orders so she wouldn't have to think, but he said nothing. Lightfoot, at his side, bent her head to Twist, but her eyes were on Declan.

Twist turned and realized why. Declan's expression was agonized, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Come with me," he whispered breathlessly.

And despite her fury with him, her deep mistrust of his motives, she went. She thought, as they left the den, that he could betray her again and again, betray the whole world, the Sliders, everything, and she would still go with him, still want to be by his side.

Declan led her out into the forest, down to the brook, where no one could overhear them. Then he sat her down, dropped his forehead against her shoulder, his voice shaking, and told her everything.

He told her how Dahlia was giving information to the Watchers because of marked cats. He told her that Blackjack was insane, and that he had a vendetta against those with two different colored eyes because of his mother's murder by the Rogue. He told her that, despite Dahlia's increasingly desperate entreaties and confessions, he would never and could never love her, that Twist was the only one who had ever had his heart.

And he told her that Dahlia knew about Hazel, and that she would tell Blackjack about her existence if anyone tried to hurt Dahlia.

Twist listened, her entire body numb with shock. By the time Declan had finished talking, his throat dry and his voice cracked, she was trembling.

"Oh, stars," she breathed, gasping for air. "Oh, stars, Declan."

"I know," he whispered, curling his body against hers. "I know, Twist. We have to…to do something. But I just can't—" His voice broke and he couldn't go on.

The details were falling into place for Twist now. Dahlia was the key piece, the main problem. She had the information needed to start and end wars, and she was just dangling it at the ends of their noses, wanting them to play along. And the whole Sliders had fallen for it.

"We have to stop them," Twist said.

Declan looked up at her, agony in his eyes. "What?"

"The Watchers," Twist said calmly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "If they want to kill us, we have to kill them first. Easy."

"Twist…" Declan looked completely lost. She could see it in his eyes. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" Twist demanded sharply. "They want us dead, Declan! We have to get them before they get us! It's just like that horrible she-cat to go and tell her brother everything, everything about us, even though we let her live. She'll be the death of all of us. Why shouldn't we get her first?"

"Dahlia wouldn't do that," he whispered.

Twist pulled away from him. "How do you know that?"

He closed his eyes. "She promised me if I got her out of this alive she wouldn't tell Blackjack about Hazel. About her eyes. He would want to kill her just like he killed Bronze and Jaybird and the Claws." Then his eyes opened and they _blazed, _bright like backlit glass. "Don't you _see, _Twist? This was the only way to escape them. Now we're going to be safe."

"You can't promise that," she said bitterly. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Declan turned his head away. "I'll keep you safe, Twist. You and Hazel both. I won't let anything happen to you. If you want to take this matter to Lucky…I'll trust you. Just tell me what to do, Twist. Just tell me." His eyes had that anguish back in them, strong as the brook's current. "Tell me what to do. I'll do anything. Anything. Just tell me, Twist. Tell me—" His voice cracked and he stopped, pushing his forehead against hers, desperate for comfort.

Twist sighed, pressing closer to him, trying to calm herself with his touch and scent. "I don't know," she murmured, her voice shaking and uneven. "I just don't know."

* * *

><p><strong>The ending's pretty bad. Sorry. But my dinner's ready and I'm starving. XD <strong>

**Also, one of the worst things about being in college is having online classes with adults in them. Because I'm so much younger than them, they think they can tromp all over my opinions and stuff. Like, for example, we had to do a synthesis paper, which meant I had to blend my groupmate's paper with mine. I did so and sent it to her, and got basically this as a response: "I think it would be better if you just edited my section of this paper and then added your notes at the end."**

**-profanity-**

**Simply terrible. This is my last time working with her, so I can deal with it. For now.**

**Darn those adult control-freaks. DARN THEM.**

**Anyway. Steak-time. X3 'Ta for now!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**

**PS: Aren't you guys pleased at my updating skills? I was thinking about trying to update every week on a specific day, like webcomics do, but the problem it that my schedule is unpredictable homework-wise. So this is the best I can do for now. Hope that works for you guys. XD**


	17. Hidden and Revealed

**Hey, guuuys~! Things have definitely gotten better because nooooooooow I have a job! Woo! I'm writing for this online marketing company, so all I have to do is write articles on whatever they tell me-smoking, losing weight, perscriptions. Those kinds of things. Boring but easy!**

**So it leaves me a little less time to write. But that's okay, because now I have an income! Like a REAL adult!**

**If I can even be considered an adult, which I probably can't. XD**

**Shadowmist1999 - Hee! My stories have been mentioned in REAL LIFE! It's always so strange for me to think that there are actual real people who like my actual stories. It's very fun. XD Hazel threat, definitely. I had a Japanese penpal, too! Her name's Amii. X3**

**Monkey Csaw - Laziness is so hard to overcome, you're right. Even so laziness combined with busyness. XD I'm glad that you dislike her, honestly. I want to have her be very different from my other mains. XD Heee~ Thank you, thank you! ^.^ -happy-making-**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Woohoo! Congrats about your school! And yes, partners are so annoying. I wish I could just do all the work myself. XD**

**Mistyflower68 - Aaw, I'm sorry about your kitty. :( I wish I could publish it but there would be so much work to fix all the references and I'd have to change them from being cats and aaaah! Work. XD But thank you! :D**

**Tangleflame - Hee~ Y'all are so nice. It's such a pleasure writing all the things for you. X3**

**RowebotRowe - I know! Just because I'm a lot younger than them doesn't mean they're right! We young people know what we're talking about sometimes! Ohh, it's no problem to respond to all of them all the time! Sometimes I just get lazy and wanna publish the chapter right away. XD Hee! Thank you, thank you! ^.^**

**Icestar0921 - I know. But what can ya do? XD**

**Anyhoo,**

**ONTO THE STOREH!**

**(Was that too aggressive? XD)**

**And since my stories keep getting flagged for using copyrighted song lyrics - not that I understand why a single person would give that much of a crap about something so stupid, and because the people pointing it out must have absolutely nothing better or constructive to do with their time - I will use a quote that is well-within the bounds of the public domain.**

**"Thine forward voice, now, is to speak well of thine friend;**

** thine backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract." **

**_The Tempest, _Act 2, Scene 2  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Hazel pushed her nose through the soggy leaves, which plastered her whiskers to her face. Shaking her head furiously to dislodge them, she stroked her tongue across her paw and smoothed the fur on her face.<p>

For no particular reason, really, she thought. After all, she and Kale were just friends.

But that didn't mean she couldn't look nice for him.

This was going to their fourth time meeting. After the first disastrous meeting and the second startling one, she had gone to find him.

It had been scary, running to the woods, breaking through that empty plain that separated the Warren from the forest, but it had been worth it. Kale had been waiting right where he said he would be, and his lovely blue eyes had lit up when he'd seen her.

Hazel didn't fancy herself smitten with him, though. He was so _interesting, _so unlike any other cat she'd met before, that she wanted to know more about him. It was like hunger, his appeal to her. She could see the entire other world she'd never known floating behind those pale eyes, hiding just out of sight. And she wanted to know more.

When she reached the old twist thorn tree, he was waiting for her. Stepping out from its shelter, he trotted up to her, tail high, eyes shining. Today, his eyes looked gray. They often took on the shade of whatever was around him. It made him look older, wiser. But still those stars sparkling in his gaze enraptured her.

"Hazel!" he greeted, touching his nose gently to hers. "It's been awhile. What's happened?"

Trying to tamp down the excited flutter at his touch, she said offhandedly, "Oh, I almost got caught a few times. I have to be careful, to make sure that my—that Twist doesn't catch me." She caught herself; she'd almost called Twist her mother.

Kale looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry. You know, in a few more moon cycles, you won't have to worry about that."

Hazel purred. She'd told him about her curfew, obviously. It was nice that he remembered, that he thought she was that interesting. "I know. Now it's almost a full moon cycle. Then I'll be a real Slider."

Kale laughed. "A real Slider," he repeated, fondly. "Then you can come out and see me whenever you want."

"You could come join the Sliders," she suggested shyly, her fur feeling suddenly hot beneath his bright pale gaze. She hadn't made the proposal before and suddenly, it felt like a bad idea. What if he thought it was an insult?

But Kale's mouth just quirked a bit, that amusement still about his face. Brushing his muzzle against her ears, he said, "I don't think that would be a good idea."

She was too dazed by the softness of his muzzle against her head that her next question died on her tongue.

Kale stepped back, his pale fur shadowed by the rain. Usually it was just lighter than Lucky's fur, a nice rich cream color, with bands of honey-colored fur waving through it. She couldn't get over how similar she thought they were even though they were nothing alike. They didn't walk with the same smooth gait—Kale had a restlessness to his walking, like he was always watching out for something—and they didn't have the same eyes. But something, something in the back of her mind, whispered their likeness. Though she didn't know why.

"Come on," he urged. "I want you to meet my friends."

"Really?" Hazel's tail curled up in delight. She'd heard him talk about them before but she'd never met them. Did that mean that he trusted her now? The thought sent a nervous excited shiver through her belly. "Where are they?"

"In the depths of the forest. It's a bit of a ways away." He turned to her, sly happiness on his face. "Can you keep up with me, little mouse?"

Hazel snorted, lifting her chin. "Can _you _keep up with _me?" _And then she took off, the thrill of adrenaline singing through her veins like ice.

And, after a short laugh, Kale followed.

He led her deep into the forest, further than she'd ever wandered before. Past the place where Streak had taken her, past the wide field that she'd always heard stories of, where the great battle had taken place. Up to the brook and over it.

That was particularly scary. There were a row of steppingstones but the idea of the cold water rushed just a whisker-length away from her paws and belly was terrifying. Her breath clutched in her chest, sharp and painful.

But Kale was patient. Leaping onto the first beside her, leaning down so that their eyes were level—he was a few moon cycles older than her, he'd told her, so he was much taller than her—he said gently, "I won't let you fall in."

Eyes fixed on the water, she gasped, "What if I do anyway?"

"Then I'll simply have to jump in and fetch you back. Don't worry," he promised. "I'm a good swimmer."

Hazel felt the stitch in her chest relax. Gathering her paws beneath her, she sprang to the next rock and onto dry land.

Kale followed a heartbeat after. Purring, he said, "You did so well, Hazel! I'm so proud of you."

That struck her particularly. Of course, Declan and Twist always said they were proud of her, but no one else ever had, especially not someone like Kale. It made a happy bubble in her belly, and she resisted the urge to purr like a pleased little kit. She would be more mature than that.

Just as they reached the shelter of the trees on the other side, Hazel heard her name being called.

She darted to a rock on the bank and hid beneath it, peering out over the top of it.

Kale slid in next to her, crouching next to her, and whispered, "What are we doing?"

Hazel didn't answer. She was fixated on the shape loping down the bank, the pelt white against the gray ground.

It was Streak.

_I've been caught at last, _she thought. She knew eventually that someone would find out she'd been sneaking away; all the Sliders seemed to keep a particularly sharp eye on her for some reason. But she hadn't expected it would be Streak.

"Hazel!" he called again, looking away from the brook and into the forest. The fur along his spine was spiked up, and the set of his ears displayed stress. He looked wildly around, calling for her again, then disappeared into the woods.

"Something's wrong," she whispered to Kale. "He wouldn't be out here if something wasn't wrong."

Kale said, "Maybe you've been discovered. You said you weren't allowed out, didn't you?"

Hazel let out an unhappy sound. "Maybe. I mean, yes, I'm not allowed out, but maybe I _have _been found out. Stars, that would be awful."

"Why?" Kale asked softly.

She turned to him. This close, she could pick out the bits of green and gray in his eyes, and she could see the remnants of mud in the smooth fur of his throat. He still hadn't explained that to her yet, why he was usually striped with mud. He looked concerned, his brows drawn down across his eyes, his mouth tense.

A rush of warmth flooded through her but she spoke honestly, like he did: "Because then I wouldn't get to see you."

"For a moon cycle," he said lightly but his expression was still complex.

She shook her head. "Too long."

Kale purred.

When Streak had gone, his voice fading into the rain, Kale and Hazel moved again, rushing up the bank and into the forest.

These woods smelled differently. The Warren always smelled of rich dirt and sharp pines but these trees were softer, smoother, the taste of their bark coating her tongue like honey. Even the ground was different, stonier with a layer of sand covering it. Rushes bent in the breeze here, which seemed stronger from the mountains.

Kale led her down a well-worn path. Many pawprints dimpled the ground here, and the smell of mud was strong. And something else…

"Blood," she gasped.

Terrible fear filled her then, grasped her in tight sharp claws. For the first time, the thought came into her mind that this was a horrible thing to do, go trotting off into unknown woods with a tom she barely knew, regardless of how nice he seemed.

Twist was screaming at her in her mind, screaming at her to run, run, run, run—

Kale said, "Hazel? Are you okay?"

She realized her eyes were pressed shut tightly and her claws were dug into the ground. She hadn't even realized she'd closed her eyes. Opening them slowly, she saw Kale's concerned face close to hers, worry in his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked. "Are you scared?"

There was no hiding it. Fear scent rolled off her like fog. "It smells like blood here," she said.

"Prey blood," he said easily.

She shook her head. "Cat blood. I can tell. I—" She choked as a vision of horrible pictures filled her mind: bodies piles, long white bones stacked, terrified eyes gleaming up from her from darkness, scraps of fur blown along by a wind that smelled like bitter water.

The vision rocked her. _What was that? _

Kale didn't look like he knew what to do. Gently laying a paw atop hers, he leaned in so he could look up into her lowered face. "Hazel, you're frightening me. Are you okay?"

Breathing heavily, her body chilled even despite the rain, Hazel blinked rapidly, trying to shake it off. She didn't want to show weakness. "I'm fine," she said, but her voice was shaky.

Kale didn't look like he believed her but he didn't say anything else. "Want me to take you home?"

"No," she gasped. Ignoring the weird flash of images, this was the best day she'd ever had. She didn't want it to stop.

Unconvinced, Kale tried to appear happier. With a curl in his tail, he nodded to the path, and they moved on together.

The ground grew long and grassy beneath her paws, the earth softened by rain. Her pelt was dewed with it, too; it clung in a thin mist of droplets to the ends of her fur.

Kale doubled-back as she hesitated, shaking the water off. "Don't worry," he promised earnestly. "We'll be out of the rain soon."

"You have a den here?"

He purred. "Sort of."

Confused, Hazel gave herself one last shake before following after him.

They reached the base of a huge cliff. To the side, the ground plunged away to the brook, which was much rougher now. About thirty paces down, it frothed and churned darkly, the color nearly gray with the motion.

A hole yawned up out of the solid rock, slightly lower than the rest of the ground. Standing in the middle were two cats.

One was a white-and-ginger she-cat, long-legged and willowy, with bright blue eyes. The other was a messy-furred brown tom, who had a look of easy carelessness in his green eyes.

"Hey!" the tom called, his voice light. "Where have you been?"

"Who's that?" The she-cat was staring past Kale to Hazel, who reflexively squinted her eyes.

"Don't worry." Kale turned and looked at her gently. "They're my friends." Turning back to them, he said, "This is Hazel. She's a Slider."

"A Slider!" The tom's eyes went wide.

The she-cat looked anxiously at Kale. "Why would you bring one of them here, Kale?" she demanded.

He tried to pass it off. "It's fine."

"It's not fine. If we get caught—"

"Sundance," Kale said sharply, losing his temper for the first time. "Stop."

She sighed heavily and tossed her head to the side. "Fine," she growled. "But don't get mad at me when—"

"Whoa," the tom breathed, leaning closer. Hazel retreated half a pace behind Kale but he stopped and waited, knowing he was frightening her. "She's _marked!"_

_Marked? _Hazel glanced down at her chest and her sides but her fur was clean. There wasn't a spot on her.

Kale brushed his tail down her side, which soothed her. "Come on, be nice."

"Right." The brown tom pulled back, realization in his eyes. "I'm Riff. And this is Sundance."

The she-cat, who still looked a bit wary, warmed up a little at that. "Hello, Hazel."

"H-hello," Hazel said back. The she-cat was watching her with a wan, amused expression. "Nice to meet you."

Riff said, "Kale, what took you so long? You're still mooning after this she-cat?"

Hazel's entire body flushed with embarrassment, but there was a little twinge of pleasure, too, as she saw how equally embarrassed Kale looked.

"I'm going to kill you," he muttered to Riff as he passed by, but flicked him across the ears just the same. Judging by the affection in both's eyes, they must be best friends. "Come on, Hazel. Come inside."

Hazel trotted after them happily, not worried anymore. If Kale had these two friends, who seemed friendly enough, then he must be a good cat.

Inside it was cool and dark. The air tasted like water, but not like rain. _The brook must seep into the moss here or something, _she thought.

Kale seemed to be looking along the ground for something. When she asked, he said, "There are markers here in the walls. It'll lead us to the main part of the caves. It's a system."

"Wow," she breathed, looking at all the chips in the walls and the smoothed ground. "How did you find this place?"

Kale's pawsteps were the only sound for moment; Sundance and Riff were further back, chatting in low voices. "We came across it through…family."

"Family? Where is your family?"

Kale looked away. "My father's dead," he said abruptly, his tone making it clear he didn't want to talk about it. "And my mother's gone."

"Gone where?"

He shrugged. "Away. She hangs around with a group of nomads. They don't like to stay around here."

"Here? Like here specifically?"

He turned to look at her then. His eyes were unreadable. "Yeah."

Hazel was confused. "How come?"

"This place… It holds a lot of memories for cats in these parts. No one really likes to stay around here. They're afraid."

A jolt went through her heart. "Of you?"

That made him laugh. "No, not us. There was a group that stayed here before. Most of the forest cats around here hated them, for one reason or another. Anyway," he continued, looking away again, towards the ground and making decisions on tunnels based on what he found there. "They cleared out and left this place all alone. I don't really have a home anymore so me and Riff and Sundance found this place. We've been living here for a couple of moon cycles. Not for very long. It's like our secret base."

Hazel, looking from his expressive face to the surrounding moss-covered walls, breathed, "Cool."

His mouth quirked. "I'm glad you think so."

"Of course I do!" She looked back up at him. "Don't you think it's cool?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But I was worried that—" He cut himself off abruptly. "Never mind."

Hazel knew he was keeping something from her. That bit into her heart but she kept quiet. She didn't want him to think she was a little kit. So she set her jaw and padded along, her eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.

They had reached a central room. It only had one tunnel branching off from it, which apparently led to something else. There was bedding here, three little nests, with a few scattered prey bones.

Riff plopped himself into one of the nests, rolling onto his back. Stretching his legs out in the air above him, he said, "Did you bring her here for a reason, Kale?"

"I thought she'd like to see the place," Kale answered easily, sitting near the entranceway, leaning aside as Sundance passed him, her white fur glowing like a light in the gloominess.

Riff didn't seem to buy that. "And?"

"I hadn't asked her about that yet," Kale said stiffly, sounding self-conscious.

"About what?" Hazel tore her eyes from the ceiling—where a hole let through filtered greenish light.

Riff and Sundance shared amused glances, but Kale didn't look at them. He was looking at Hazel.

When he spoke, he was hesitant. "Well… I mean, I'm sure you're probably wondering a few things. Like why we're here when no one else lives here—"

"Why you're usually covered in mud," Hazel said smoothly, enjoying this game.

Kale let out an amused sound. "Yeah, that kind of stuff."

"Just spit it out," Sundance purred, lounging in her nest and flicked the tip of her long white tail.

"Well…" Kale hesitated, looking for a long moment at Hazel. "We… Hazel, how much do you know about the Claws?"

"I know I need them to hunt," Hazel said slowly, not understanding what he was getting at.

Riff fell onto his side laughing. "Oh…oh wow," he gasped, his paws pressed against his chest. "'I need them to hunt!'"

Sundance looked like she was having a hard time not laughing. Her whiskers twitched.

Kale was the only one who didn't laugh at her. "Well, yes," he said. "But they were also a group. In fact, they were the group that attacked your Sliders a couple moon cycles ago."

Hazel felt a jolt. "I didn't know that."

Sundance looked at her curiously. "How could you not? Aren't you a Slider?"

"Well, I was born one, but—" Hazel cut herself off, feeling a stab of hurt. Why hadn't Twist told her?

She knew that there had been big battle before she'd been born and she knew her father had died in it. Anything other than that was new. Twist and Declan didn't like to talk about it. No one in the Sliders did.

Maybe now she could learn why.

"The Claws…were the enemy?"

"No," Sundance said. "Not _the _enemy. They were enemies to the Sliders but that was because of Lucky."

"But Lucky's good," Hazel protested loyally. "He keeps the Sliders in line."

"True," Riff said. "But he's the one who caused the fighting. The Master of the Claws didn't want to but Lucky drove him to it. He gathered the Claws to attack Lucky and kill him before he could kill anymore Claws."

Hazel felt dizzy. "That's…that's not true."

"It is," Riff said gravely. "The Master didn't do anything to provoke the Claws."

"But…" Hazel shook her head. "No, that can't be right. Twist and Declan, they—"

"You know them?" Sundance spoke up now, looking intensely curious. "They're still alive?"

_Still alive? _"Of course they are!" she snapped. "They're my…they're the ones who raised me."

"Wow," Riff breathed. He looked at Sundance. "So that's different."

"Shut up," said Kale.

Now that prickling anxiety was beginning to settle over her spine again. Twist's voice was whispering in the back of her mind, telling her to come home right now.

"What's going on?" she demanded, looking from one to the other. "What do you mean are they still alive? Of course they're still alive! They were the heroes of that war!"

Sundance looked solemn them, her blue eyes darker. "Heroes," she echoed. "Heroes are only on the winning side. To the others, heroes seem a lot like the enemies."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hazel asked, getting angry now. She could insult Twist all she wanted but _no one _else could.

Riff sighed, rolling his eyes. "I guess Kale didn't tell you, then."

"Tell me what?" Hazel locked onto Kale, who was looking a little uncomfortable.

But he didn't answer; he was too busy looking at his paws, nervousness in the set of his shoulders.

Sundance spoke for him. "You've come to the wrong place if you want sympathy from us, Hazel," she said. "The heroes I was talking about? They're from the other side, your side. We have our own heroes. Because," and now she stood and walked towards her, her gentle voice suddenly firmer, "we're not like you. We're the next generation, too, you know. But we're not Sliders. We're Claws. And you just walked right into our den."

* * *

><p><strong>Now I'm off to play Kingdom Hearts 2 with Fwirl. <strong>

**Did you guys ever read that story we wrote together? "Darkness of Dawn" or something like that. If you guys liked it, I might be able to convince Fwirly to write it more with me. XD**

**Anyhoo. **

**'Ta!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	18. Stars and Shadows

**Hey, y'all. Sorry it's been so long but I've been having kind of a crappy couple of weeks. I got fired-they said my writing was "too complex for [their] readership"-which kind of was a bummer. Now I have to go get another job. D:**

**On the plus side, I made the semifinals of ABNA! -plays kazoo- That means my manuscript is now searchable and my name's listed in their list of fifty YA semifinalists. Yaaaay~ Very happy-making.**

**monkeyCsaw - I do love Kale. You get to see a bit of his other side in this chapter, in which he's less mysterious, and more adorkable. XD Hee! I'm glad you like it so much! ^.^**

**Silvertail of shoreclan - You'll get some Twist soon. I just have to have a bit more explanation of this little sideplot before I go back to the whole main deal. :P**

**Emberstar of IceClan - Hee~ You know how them teenagers are. Our little Hazel is running headlong into a fall.**

**Shadowmist1999 - Hee~ Appearances aren't always what they seem, Shadowchan. You must read on. =3 Don't worry, my dear! Reviews will come back to you! You just have to give him a little present first-new chapter. XD**

**xXEnigmaXx - Oooh, so someone DOES read it! XD Fwirly's still in school, though, so she's super busy, but I'll see if I can get her on-board with writing some more of it when she's done. :D**

**Winter Forest Shadows - Whoa whoa whoa! -shiny eyes- You flatter me, WFS, you indeed flatter me. This comment, like, made me go all blushy-faced, hop-around-my-room in glee. You guys are all so nice to me. I'm very happy that you like this so much. XD**

**Anyhoo.**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

><p>Hazel took several steps back, awful realization dawning over her. She hadn't heard of the Claws before but they must have been the cats on the other side of that battle, the one that her father Snit had died in. The one that had made Twist and Declan heroes in her eyes. And now they weren't heroes? Her head spun.<p>

Riff said casually, "You better lay down, little Slider. You're looking a little shaky on your paws."

Hazel sat down heavily, her heart beating very quickly in her chest. Her mouth was open as she panted, as swiftly as if she'd been running halfway from the Warren to here.

"You want some water, sweet?" Sundance asked gently, touching her nose to Hazel's cheek. "Let me get you some." She disappeared back into the gloominess of this strange place, returning with a soaked ball of water.

Hazel took several tentative gulps of it, licking the bitter mineral taste off her mouth with disgust.

Sundance's blue eyes were softly amused. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to. There's a brook close by but mostly we drink this. It's rainwater, collected in the back. I'll show you how it's done, if you'd like." She looked at Hazel, her expression kindly.

Hazel was too busy internally panicking to notice that no one was attacking her. "Are you…are you going to kill me?"

Riff laughed but Kale just winced, like the idea was painful.

"Of course not," Riff said. "What gave you that idea?"

"You're—" Hazel had to lick her lips to try to ease the sudden horrified dryness. "You're Claws, right? You're…the enemy."

Riff made a flippant gesture with one paw. "That's all in the past," he said, sounding for all the world like this was a normal conversation. "We don't really have anything to do with the Claws now that we're adults."

"We're hardly adults," Sundance disagreed. "We're barely over the age limit to leave. The right word is _nomads_. We severed ties with the rest of our kin and kind and moved here. No one comes near here anyway, remember? This was their stronghold. They called it the cliffs."

"For good reason, huh?" Riff winked at Hazel.

Hazel was so lost. Her head whirred with the confusion of it all. "But…what—"

"Hazel," Kale said gently and she turned to him at once, seeking an answer to all of this. He padded forward, his light pelt falling around him beautifully. He stopped in front of her and gently said, "We won't harm you. I swear to you that I will never hurt you. We're here to offer you what you want."

Hazel was in blissful disbelief: _I will never hurt you. _"What do I want?" she asked, her gaze on his pale eyes, his silky fur, the gentleness in his expression. Oh, she knew what she wanted. Just something she couldn't have.

Kale's voice was soft when he replied, "Freedom."

The sound soaked into Hazel's entire body, like a delicious breeze on a hot day. "From what?"

"Give the she-cat a prize," Riff said, amused. "She's playing twenty questions with us, Kale."

"Hush," Sundance said, whapping a paw over her friend's brown muzzle and pushing him into the ground. "You're being annoying."

Kale looked over his shoulder at them, tilting his head. Sundance nodded, her warm pale gaze moving from him to Hazel. She blinked once.

"Let's go, Hazel," Kale said. "I want to show you something."

"O-okay." Hazel followed willingly, saying a quick goodbye to Riff and Sundance, who watched her knowingly. Riff's tail was flicking back and forth, his expression unreadable.

The rain outside had given way to the night; Hazel felt a sharp jolt of shock at that. She hadn't realized it had gotten so late. Twist would definitely notice her absence soon, and then she would be in deep trouble.

But then Kale turned around, his beautiful eyes lighting up as he looked at her, and Twist's anger flew to the back of Hazel's mind.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Where are we going?" For some reason, Hazel spoke in a whisper, her throat dry, her heart beating very quickly.

Kale's eyes grew warmer. "I want to show you something. Something I've never shown to anyone. Not even Riff or Sundance."

"Why me?" she asked after a short pause, her heart pulsing particularly strongly.

For a moment, Kale said nothing. Then he stepped forward until he was closer than he'd ever been to her.

Hazel didn't step away. She just watched him, marveling in the beauty of him, of the bright gleam of moonlight off his shifting eyes—which looked silver in the pale light—and of the wreathing of his soft scent, the smell like water and pine and cold rock.

Kale hesitated. He said, "I think you'd appreciate it the most. Out of anyone I know." He looked away, the set of his ears embarrassed. "Come on, let's go. I'll lead the way, okay?"

And lead he did. They wound up the side of the cliffs, leaping on top of the stacked boulders here. In several places, Hazel's shorter legs didn't allow her to leap with the agile grace of Kale, and she felt a bit embarrassed. But then he leaned down and gripped her scruff, helping her scrabbling claws find purchase on the rain-slicked stone.

As they climbed—Hazel, unused to such strenuous exercise, ran out of breath quite frequently—she felt such a rush of excitement and exhilaration unlike anything she'd ever felt before. This whole thing, this adventure out of the Warren, felt so wildly dangerous, so unlike the regimented control Twist and Declan and the rest of the Sliders had, that it was addicting. She could feel the thrill of it all sinking into her pelt, into her bones, right into the center of her being.

And she liked it more than anything else.

Kale waited for her at the top of a particularly large rock. "Come on," he called to her, his tail swishing with excitement. He looked very young in that moment, his eyes bright and gleaming in the moonlight. "One last jump and we're there."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, laughing. "To the moon? The stars?"

He sounded a bit smug when he replied, "Quite close, smart one." His head disappeared, leaving only the bright swirl of stars between the tattered storm clouds.

Puzzled, Hazel pulled herself up onto the rock, shaking out her fur. Then she looked up and her breath caught.

On top of the cliffs, the grass was long and luxurious, shoulder-high on Hazel. It was pale green and soft as she brushed through it, following the path set by Kale. She could barely see the tips of his ears over the tops of the stems. Daisies and poppies threaded through the grass, infusing their delicious scent into the air.

Kale waited in the center, where he'd stomped down a small circle of grass. He looked up when she approached, trotting over to her and touching his nose to hers gently. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," she breathed, turning in a circle. They were perfectly alone here. She couldn't hear anything but the soft night wind and the far-off call of a single owl.

"This is my secret place." Kale sat down in the middle of the flat circle, staring around at the place. His pride in it was evident from the easy slope of his shoulders and the relaxed set of his ears. He looked over at her, his eyes soft and shy. "I've never shown it to anyone else."

"Never?" She went to sit next to him, close enough that she could feel the tips of his fur brush hers but it wasn't awkward. Hazel had never felt anything this right.

He shook his head. His eyes were half-lidded with contemplation as he looked at his paws. "I like to come up here and think. It's especially nice at night." Then he took a deep breath, the sound shaky. "This is where I come when I'm thinking about you."

"Me?" Her pelt flushed hot but her heart soared despite it. She looked up at Kale's face but he was looking at the stars now, his pelt fluffed up around his shoulders and face.

He made a soft laugh in the back of his throat. "You can't tell by now?"

And Hazel didn't have to ask what he meant then.

They sprawled in the grass together on their backs, looking up at the sky. The clouds had blown away, leaving the entire sky visible.

Hazel had watched the stars before with Streak or with Declan, but it had never felt this intimate before. She tipped her head back to look at Kale, soft affection spreading from her nose to her tail as she watched him. The weak light had obliterated the paler color of his belly and paws, leaving his cream fur looking silver as moonlight. His stripes waved like shadows down his back and across his legs, banding his head, and darkening the backs of his ears.

Without looking at her, he said, "Tell me something you've never told anyone before." It wasn't a command, but more like a question. He sounded shy still, bashful, despite the fact that everything had somehow become open between them.

Hazel thought about that for a moment. "I don't really want to be a Slider," she said softly.

"Why?" His question was just an exhale.

Hazel sighed softly, turning her eyes back to the stars. Fixing on a rather bright red one, she said, "Because they've kept so much from me."

Kale shifted until he was on his shoulder, his cheek on the ground. "They want to protect you from the bad guys," he said softly. Something unspoken was in the undercurrent of his voice.

She shook her head. "I just don't know why they wouldn't let me know everything. You know more about it and you're not even involved." She rubbed her nose with a paw, covering her eyes from him. She didn't want to be getting all emotional in front of him, despite the fact she trusted him almost as much as she trusted Streak.

Kale was silent for a long time. Then he said, "It's sad."

"It is sad," she agreed, moving her paw away. "Sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry." His eyes were warm. They still looked silvery.

"They're keeping me away from you." She almost regretted the words but she couldn't quite manage it. Something about Kale made her want to tell him everything. There was no need for secrecy.

Kale sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Only for a few more moon cycles."

"I'd leave them now," she said. "I'd leave them right now if you asked me to."

"I would never ask you to do that. The Sliders are who you are, Hazel. I wouldn't do anything to tear you away from them. And besides," he went on, his eyes glimmering a bit. "You love them. You talk about them all the time. Twist and Declan and Streak and Lucky."

"Maybe I talk about them too much," Hazel muttered.

But Kale just laughed, his soft even laugh. "I don't mind," he said, sounding a bit wistful. "I like to hear you talk about them."

Hazel turned to face him, too, curling her tail up to her chest, the white tip resting on her chin. "Now it's your turn."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me something you've never told anyone."

"I already showed you my secret place," he protested lightly. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully.

He let out a humming sound as he thought. "Okay, let me think…" Then his eyes brightened. "Do you want to know my favorite joke?"

"A joke!" she echoed, not quite expecting that.

He nodded, that playful youngness coming over him again. "What is a mouse's favorite game to play?"

Hazel thought about it for a moment but nothing came to her. "What?"

"Hide-and-squeak." Before Hazel could even laugh at the horrible lameness of it, Kale said very seriously, "It's funny because mice squeak."

And then Hazel really laughed. She rolled onto her back and laughed until her belly protested at the strain.

Kale, evidently pleased that she was satisfied with his joke, said confidently, "I knew you'd like it." He flipped over onto his belly and scooted forward until they were closer again, his whiskers twitching with amusement.

She looked up at him. "Stars," she said, once she caught her breath. "Kale, you really are one of a kind, aren't you?"

"Funny," he said, his eyes searching hers. "I was thinking similarly."

Hazel's laugh died away slowly. Her heart felt very warm and snug inside her chest, as if it had suddenly expanded.

Kale watched her for a moment, his head to the side. "Your turn," he said.

"Oh." She'd forgotten the game already, lost as she was in his presence. It was like he had some sort of bewitchment over her, a power. Untraceable. Intangible. But ever-present.

And Hazel wanted it.

Snuggling her shoulder deeper into the soft grass, she looked up at him. Twist and Declan and the rest of the Sliders were a world away in her mind, even Streak. They dangled in front of her vision, warning her with their silent voices.

She knew she would regret it. Even now, Twist was probably enraged, her temper flaring into a fire strong enough to light the forest. Declan would be heartbroken—that would be even worse than anger, because she'd never once seen Declan angry.

Their faces loomed closer, each etched with disapproval, each wanting her to stop this, stop all of this, and come back home. Twist and Streak's faces were the clearest, their eyes boring into her, challenging her sanity for this.

And Hazel flicked them all away.

"What's something you've never told someone else?" Kale asked softly, brushing his paw against hers. It sent an electric shiver down her spine.

Hazel felt hot all over. Whispering so softly it was almost lost on the night wind, she coiled closer on the ground, curling in on herself in shyness, and she said, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Kale looked stunned.

She was terrified at Kale's sudden silence. Would he reject her? Did he think her just a little kit, hardly worth his time? Would he send her away in disgust, banishing her from his presence forever? That would kill her.

But instead, he purred, the sound rusty and uneven on his shaky breath.

He touched his nose gently to hers. "That's not exactly a secret," he said, which filled Hazel with an endlessly spiraling sense of falling. "But if it is, and it's my turn, my secret's the same."

Hazel closed her eyes and breathed in the blissful elation.

XXXXXXXXX

"Hazel." Kale's whisper cut through the darkness.

She opened her eyes, immediately sitting up, feeling her head whirl from dizziness. _Was I sleeping? _Horror clutched her chest in icy claws.

Kale was right in front of her, stooping to be on eye-level. He was hopping from paw to paw, anguish in his beautiful eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice hoarse from sleeping. She shook her fur. "What's wrong, Kale?"

"We have to hide," he said, nudging her to her paws. "Someone's coming."

That made her stop in mid-yawn. "Who?"

"I don't know. Someone I don't know. I didn't recognize the scent." He was stalking in circles around her, his fur up along his spine. It made him look like a pale vengeful ghost, his eyes lit as he glanced down the cliffs.

Hazel joined him, leaning into his shoulder. In the distance, she could see the dark forms of cats approaching in a tight group. They leapt over the silver glimmer of the brook easily, flowing up the side of the bank, and disappearing into the undergrowth.

Fear flooded her veins. On instinct, she closed her eyes tightly shut, her heart hammering.

Kale's whiskers brushed her face as he licked her ear. "Don't worry," he assured her, his voice nervous and rushed, shaking out of his throat. "I'll protect you. I promise. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," she lied, falling back on her stoic mask, the one she learned from Twist. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "What do we do?"

They went back inside the caves, Kale leading the way. He wove through the darkness, turning around to make sure she was following, showering her with little licks and rubs when she felt especially afraid. It was like he could sense her nervousness.

Sundance and Riff were still awake, talking softly, their heads close together. They broke apart when Kale and Hazel appeared.

"What's wrong?" Sundance said, echoing Hazel. She stood and rushed to their side, breathing in scent. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"There are cats coming here," Kale hissed, his fur bristling even more. He paced incessantly, swiftly, his movements jerky and uncertain. "I saw them from the—from the distance. They were running in this direction." He swung his head to look at Riff. "What are we going to do?"

Riff looked like a dark brown shadow against the pale rock wall. He shook his head, that little tuft of fur sweeping through the air. "I don't know," he said, but he didn't sound as panicked as Kale. "But we have to keep calm, okay? Don't rush into something. Calm, coordinated, composed."

Those words seemed to mean something to Kale. He relaxed visibly, nodding quickly, his blue eyes darting around the den.

"We have to go deeper into the caves," he said, sounding confident. He turned to Sundance. "You take Hazel there. Riff, you take the bank. You know the signal if you see something." He took in a deep breath. "I'll stay on the outside."

"No!" Hazel ran to his side, her breathing rapid and shallow. "No, you'll be hurt."

His eyes softened. He dipped his head and pressed his cheek to hers, purring softly and briefly. "I'll be fine. Remember, I promised to protect you. We're not going to attack; we're just going to track them."

"Let me go with you," Hazel begged. "I can fight. I've…I haven't had a lot of training, but—"

"You just stay here. I'll be back quickly." He brushed his muzzle against hers quickly, the action a bit too rushed to be soothing.

"_Hopefully_ we won't attack," Riff said plaintively. He extended a paw, shaking it slightly. "This body was not made for combat."

Sundance rolled her eyes. "Come on, Hazel. We'll go to the safe place." Her eyes flashed to Kale and Riff. "Be careful."

They nodded. Riff, looking a bit amused, gave a jaunty wave of his tail before nudging Kale.

One last look between Kale and Hazel, one in which Hazel wished she could repeat her words from earlier and mean them even more, and then he was gone. His pale cream fur glowed in the darkness like a distant star.

Sundance said gently, "Come on, Hazel."

Hazel, agonized, torn, followed her, her tail dragging along the ground.

The room Sundance led her to was in the very center of the cliffs. It was small and round, the ground damp with dripping water. Hazel sat miserably in the driest corner, curling her tail close, her shoulders hunched.

"You look like a wet mouse," Sundance said, trying to cheer Hazel up.

It didn't work. Hazel's heart sank. "Will they really be alright?"

Sundance sighed. Her ginger-and-white fur was dingy from the damp and the slight layer of greenish water underpaw. Looking a bit disgusted, she said, "We never come back here. This was the room where they kept their leader."

_She didn't answer my question. _But Hazel, desperate for a topic change, played along. "The Master?"

Sundance shook her head. "Another. A weak, sickly, broken cat. He was terrifying, they said. I was just a kit when the war happened but I remember when they brought his body out. It wasn't even feline. I'd never seen anything as horrible as that cat's body." She shuddered, her delicate blue eyes closing. "When they buried him, everyone was relieved."

"Then the Claws broke up?" Hazel whispered.

Sundance nodded. "We were never the same after the Sliders destroyed us. We lost the fear we'd once had. Hazel, when you're feared in this world, you're better off. That's how the Claws lasted for so long. But now we're just vagabonds. Wastes of pelts, to be honest. Whatever's left of us, that is." She scraped a paw through a puddle, leaving behind a series of ripples.

Hazel watched them for a moment. "What happened to you? The Claws?"

Sundance looked up, and in her eyes, Hazel saw an entire gang's worth of sadness. "We were murdered. Those of us who are left are in hiding. Most of us are gone. That's why we split off from the main group. Safety in numbers doesn't apply when you've got a killer after you. He picked us off like pigeons. I watched my father die, my mother, my sisters and brothers. I couldn't handle it anymore. All that blood, and loss…" She trailed off. "Kale and Riff are the only ones I care about anymore. It's dangerous to love anyone in this world, Hazel."

"You sound like Twist," Hazel said before she could fully think that over.

But Sundance didn't seem angry, not like Hazel's mention of Twist earlier. She just looked wistful. "Everything I've heard about her is negative. They say she sold out her gang to save herself, that she tricked Sorrow into leading the charge to the Warren." Her wistful expression turned a little amused when she finally looked at Hazel's face. "You're surprised. I can tell. They really haven't told you anything, have they?"

Hazel shook her head. "To…to protect me—"

"To keep you ignorant," Sundance said, not unkindly. "Did they promise they'd let you be a normal Slider, too?"

Wordlessly, Hazel nodded.

Sundance sighed heavily, turning her face away. Shadows cut down her pale face, accenting the ginger patches over her eyes. "Hazel," she said tentatively. "You should know. About your eyes, they—"

Then Sundance's eyes went very wide, her pupils shrinking to little points. She leapt in front of Hazel, pushing her back against the wall. Hazel felt Sundance snarling through where her flank was pressed against Hazel's shoulder.

"State your name!" Sundance yowled, her voice suddenly deeper and rougher. Hazel trembled against her side, unchecked fear running through her body, strong and paralyzing as ice.

_Twist was right, _Hazel thought as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking with terror. _I should never have disobeyed her._

"State your name!" Sundance said again, pressing Hazel even more firmly against the wall. "I swear, I'll cut you down right now if you don't answer me!"

There was a lot of shuffling, the skim of fur against stone, the squeal of unsheathed claws on stone.

And then Sundance gasped, a horrible choked sound. Hazel glanced around her shoulder, fearing the worst—something she couldn't even put a name to but it involved everyone dead: Riff dead, Streak dead, Declan dead, Kale—

There was a low growl, one that didn't come from Sundance.

Twist stood in the doorway, her dark tortoiseshell fur soaked with rain and brook water. It dripped off the ends of her whiskers, silvery in the moonlight. Behind her, Hazel could see a rainbow of Sliders: Kent, Gravel, Viktor, Kite, River. Declan, who watched with barely contained fear and panic. _Streak, _who was staring with the utmost horror in his yellow eyes.

And behind them all, Riff and Kale, held prisoner by the combined efforts of Marco, Max, and Adder.

Twist growled, lowering her head, deadly purpose dancing in her fire-yellow eyes.

"Get away from my daughter," she snarled.

* * *

><p><strong>God, I swear writing Hazel's chapters feels so purple, it's like a frickin' Twilight book. I really do love the whole puppy-love POV, I must admit.<strong>

**First time readers-if anyone really does read a single chapter from a long fic like this-don't be alarmed. I'm only this nauseatingly loquacious when I'm writing Hazel's little lovey-dovey chapters. XD**

**Anyway, I've gotta go read Cassandra Clare's City of Lost Souls, but if I finish that too quickly, I might write another chapter. Maaaaybe. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	19. Torn and Bound

**Not enough time's passed for many reviews, so I'll skip those today. Not to mention I wanna go watch American Chopper. X3**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

><p>"Twist," Hazel gasped.<p>

Twist didn't even look at her. Her eyes were still on Sundance, narrowed to slits. The yellow of her eyes was painful to look at. "I said get away," she said, her voice a threatening growl. It cut through the silent tension of the room like a claw.

Hazel's heart was hammering. Her mouth was dry. Licking her lips, she tried again. "Twist, I—"

Without looking at her, Twist said, "Be silent, Hazel. You're in enough trouble already. Don't dig yourself any deeper."

Angry now, Hazel snapped, "I shouldn't—"

And now Twist faced her fully, turning those white-hot eyes on her. "I said be silent," she hissed, sounding angrier than Hazel had ever heard her. "You have no idea what you've done. Not yet." She turned to Viktor. "What's the next move?"

"We leave them here. These Claw kits are not worth our time." He eyed Kale and Riff balefully.

Hazel noticed rather distantly they'd muddied up their pelts, probably to make themselves less visible. Kale looked terrified and miserable, coiling low to the ground, his tail wrapped around his legs, but Riff looked sharp and defiant, all angles beneath his brown pelt. He hissed when Marco leaned too close, which only angered Max; he snarled in his friend's defense.

Kale's eyes locked on Hazel's and he saw the silent plea there: _Don't leave me._

Hazel's heart felt wrung dry.

"They will come back," River said, his voice contained unveiled hatred. Hazel remembered he'd been a captured cat, too, along with Twist and Declan and Gravel, who was clearly on River's side. "If we don't do something to solve this now, Viktor, the Claws will return, stronger than before. You remember what Sorrow told us, don't you?"

Viktor stalked forward, his fur up along his spine. It made him look horrendously terrifying, spiky and furious, like a flame.

Sundance shrank back. "I have no quarrel with the Sliders," she said rapidly, licking her lips. "None. I'm not a Claw. We're not Claws."

"You share their blood," Twist spat. "You're as bad as the rest of them."

Declan shot her a quick, fleeting look. Hazel wondered at that, though there seemed to be more pressing concerns.

Hazel stepped forward, around Sundance's shoulder, hearing the she-cat let out a soft sound of protest. "Don't, Viktor. They didn't do anything wrong."

"No," he said, his voice deep. Disappointed. "That accusation lies solely in you."

Hazel dipped her head, her ears burning with shame.

"We came halfway across our territory tonight," he went on. "We crossed the brook. We came into Claw territory. Do you understand what that means to us, Hazel? Do you understand the gravity of this situation? We're on enemy soil—_you're _on enemy soil—and it is solely your fault. Lucky is furious with you."

Crouching lower, her eyes burning, she said, "I'm sorry, Viktor."

His voice was not his normal jovial tone when he replied, "Sorry isn't good enough. Not this time." He turned away from her, coldness in his expression, and Hazel's stomach twisting painfully: upsetting Twist was one thing, upsetting the entire Sliders was another.

"Come here, Hazel," Twist said. Her eyes were fixed now, her fury not yet quelled. "Now."

Hazel looked up miserably, catching Kale's eyes. He was pitiful, his expression endlessly hopeless. Like a flower crushed underpaw.

_I'm sorry, _she thought. _I love you. I don't want to leave you. Please, forgive me, Kale. I'll never forgive myself. Or the Sliders. _

Hazel walked to Twist's side, passing by Gravel and River, who were still glaring at the young Claws, passed Kite, who like her mate, held such a look of disappointment that Hazel could almost taste it. Past Declan, who had no cheerful words to offer her—not this time.

Twist didn't bend her head to sniff Hazel's fur or anything. She offered no comfort. "Let's go."

The group turned around, heading to the throat of the caves. Marco and Adder shoved Kale and Riff back in with Sundance roughly, rough enough that Kale stumbled. That little misstep hurt Hazel somewhere deep inside, like she'd been pierced with ice.

Cats pressed around her, hemming her in. Suffocating her, like they would suffocate her for the rest of her life. The freedom of the cliff top was long gone now, that soft grass and fragrant scent and the bright gleam of Kale's eyes. She wouldn't see any of those things ever again, she knew, somewhere deep within.

Declan walked alongside her, his green eyes expressionless. "Say goodbye, Hazel." Twist shot him an enraged look but he gazed back steadily. Something passed between them, something intangible but there, and Twist turned away, her back fur bristling.

Hazel turned to face the young Claws. They watched her, anguished, but none of them looked more than Kale. Raw agony was in his eyes, gleaming in the silvery color of his irises, so clearly that Hazel felt its reflected echo within her own heart.

She padded up to him, and she could hear River's disbelieving hiss behind her.

Kale looked soft and sad, his head to one side. "I guess this is it," he said softly.

Hazel, ignoring the outraged silence of the cats behind her, touched her nose to his. "I won't forget this," she said. "What you've done for me. I won't forget you."

"Promise," he said, the sound anguished and choked. He shivered, looking helpless in that moment, younger than Hazel had ever seen him.

She rested her muzzle against his for a moment, closing her eyes. Breathing him in. Water and pine and stone. "I promise," she said. Even softer, she said, "I love you."

Kale's whiskers brushed against hers as he whispered back, "I love you. Until the end of all my days and nights, I love you. Until the last beat of my heart."

Hazel's throat felt blocked. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then she tore herself away from him, feeling the pain of the separation like a physical ripping in her body, and walked to Twist's side once more.

Streak was there, his scent comforting. But there was nothing comforting in his eyes. They were distant, remote in a way she'd never seen him before. He looked at her like he didn't know her. Like she was a stranger.

And Hazel had never felt lower in her entire life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lucky hadn't shouted at her either.

The entirety of the Sliders had gathered in front of his den, their pelts whisper-soft against hers as she walked through, feeling like a traitor. They talked in low voices, their eyes bright and sharp on her, piercing like thorns.

Inside the den, Lucky had waited. Viktor had gone on ahead and filled him in, so his dark eyes were already level but disappointed. The tip of his cream tail, nearly the color of Kale's—which made her heart ache—twitched back and forth, back and forth, in an even rhythm.

"Hazel." Nothing else. Just her name. In the same tone she'd always heard, calm and low and level, but she could detect something unspoken in the undercurrent of it. "What have you done?"

"I'm so sorry, Lucky," she said, bending her head.

Lucky sighed, his ears slanting to the side. Declan and Twist stood near him. Declan watched her, distress in his eyes. Twist didn't even look at her.

"You could have gotten yourself killed, Hazel," Lucky said slowly. "By leaving the safety of the Warren and by going alone, you could have found yourself in terrible danger. You only managed to survive this time because you were fortunate. The spirits of former Sliders must have protected you."

Hazel thought about that for a moment, imagining her father beside her. She imagined him as Declan had always described—tall and lanky with his light-and-shadowed pelt. In her head, he looked disappointed in her, too.

Lucky turned to Twist. "You will handle the rest?"

"Yes, I have many things I wish to speak to her about." Twist's voice was like a crack of lightning. She still hadn't looked at Hazel.

Lucky nodded sympathetically. "I wish you good luck. In the meanwhile, Hazel, you understand that you must be punished. You will join Gray and your other agemates in cleaning the entirety of the Warren for the next two moon cycles. Because of your foolishness, they will be held back from their aging ritual, too. I will leave that up to you to explain."

That was it. Hazel felt a rush of relief. Explaining to the rest of her Slider friends would be hard—they would probably be furious with her for a long time—but it wasn't anything nearly as bad as she'd imagined. She wasn't banished. She wasn't going to be kept underground for the rest of her life.

She was excused as Viktor and Lucky turned to talk, leaving just Twist, Declan, and Hazel. They walked outside, back to where the moon was still high. The rest of the Sliders had dispersed, probably going back to bed after this tumultuous experience, but Streak hadn't.

He was waiting, his white fur glowing silver beneath the moonlight. "Hazel—"

Twist said, "Streak, this is not the time. Go."

He looked pleadingly to Twist. "But—" He recoiled backwards as Twist turned her glare on him.

"I said go," she said. There was no room for argument in her tone.

Streak nodded miserably. He turned to Hazel, blinking at her, offering her the only bit of kindness from the Sliders that night, but she was so heartbroken, so shattered, that she couldn't even reply.

Streak scooted off to his den, his tail and head low, and Twist turned to Declan.

"Let me come, too," he said softly.

Twist shook her head. "This is between me and her. I'll handle this."

Declan didn't push her. He turned to Hazel, his eyes unreadable once again. Then he just turned his head away.

"Hazel," Twist said, again in that cracking tone. "Come."

Hazel, fear clutching her chest once more, did not argue with her.

Twist led her to the south side of the Warren, to where the brook flavored the air with its bitter tang. The ground was soft underpaw, bare, without any of the soft grass or sand of the main portion of the Warren. It was close to where she'd marked her escape-place, much to Hazel's horror.

But Twist didn't lead her there. She led her to a lone pile of harder boxes, leaping up on top of them. Hazel followed wordlessly until they were on the very top, tall enough to look out over the hillside outside the fence.

This place was somewhere she had played with Streak, when she was younger. It was the only place you could see the outside, where the grass was long and pretty and the rain misted over the hills.

Twist had her eyes fixed on it. Hazel waited for several long moments, waiting for her to speak, before she said desperately, "Say something."

And for another long moment, Twist was silent. In the moonlight, her fur looked even darker, nearly black, and the lightning-bolt marks on her face that Hazel had always liked look like streaks of silver rain.

For Hazel's entire life, she'd known Twist's face, better than she knew her own. The angle of her small ears, the bit of frosty white fur on her chin, the intensity of her yellow eyes.

But now it felt like Twist was a stranger. She was all shadows and pallor, bleached pale by the clear white moon.

"We are at war, Hazel," she said finally, steadily, her eyes fixed on the hillside. "We have been for as long as I have been here. Declan too. We lived through such horrible things. Things you can't even imagine. And all because of the Claws." She turned to look down at Hazel. "The ones you call your friends. How long have you been sneaking away to see them?"

"N-not many times," she said, flushed. "This was the first time I'd even met Riff and Sundance."

"And the other?" A deadly calm was in Twist's voice. Her expression was indecipherable.

Hazel looked away immediately. "A…a little longer than that."

"Then you're a fool." It was so unexpected that Hazel looked up at Twist, unable to believe her ears. "How could you do this, Hazel? Didn't I teach you better sense than that? Don't you know how dangerous it is to leave this place?"

And then, like a spark to dry wood, Hazel was flooded with anger. "No," she snapped. "Because you never told me _anything! _You never told me about the Claws or about the war or about my parents. You never told me how dangerous it was outside only that it _was _dangerous. How was I supposed to know anything from that?"

"You should have just trusted me!" Twist was on her paws now, her back arched, her fur bristling. "I've never led you wrong! I've loved you, cared for you, fed you, kept you safe—What more do you want from me, Hazel?"

"If it was such a strain, you shouldn't have even bothered! You should have just left me to die!" She leapt down onto the lower box, her anger all-consuming. She felt it burn into each step she took as she sprang down again, landing agilely.

Above her, Twist's ears were outlined, gilded by the moon. "Your mother trusted you to me," she said, her voice a snarl. "Who was I to turn my back on someone who needed me?"

"You tell me all the time that loving someone is dangerous," Hazel said, her voice reckless. Inside, her internal Twist voice told her, _Calm down, _but she couldn't, not with the real Twist right in front of her. "Why would you love my mother? You should have abandoned me, if you're really so dedicated to your so-called morals!"

"Love is dangerous," Twist hissed. She hadn't moved and neither had Hazel. They stood apart, glaring at each other, their fur bristling as if they were going to fight. "I've never denied that. But I won't let anything happen to you. I promised her I would keep you safe."

"Out of duty!"

"Out of _love!" _Twist shouted, her voice nearly cracking from the strain. "I love you, Hazel, and for some reason, you continue to deny that to yourself. You continue to seek trouble, like you're hunting after it. I don't know where I went wrong with you. I've tried so hard to teach you right from wrong but clearly I was the one who was mistaken. I thought you were smarter than that but you're just so young, Hazel."

"You don't know anything about love!" Hazel accused recklessly, feeling a sob ache in her chest. Kale's face flashed bright as lightning behind her closed eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that sob-story," Twist said disparagingly. "Now you're reaching."

"I love him!" Hazel yowled, the sound painful in her throat. "I love him and you stole me away from him! I want to be with him, not you! I wish I was there right now. I wish I was with him right now because if I was, I'd never leave him again."

Twist's eyes went very wide, her pupils shrinking until they were the size of poppy seeds. "You don't mean that," she said, aghast.

Shaken by Twist's sudden loss of composure, Hazel froze. Her heart was hammering in her chest. "I do," she said, her voice low and ragged, broken from shouting for so long. "I do. I love him."

"You barely know him," Twist said, her anger sweeping her onwards. She leapt down until she was on the same box as Hazel, her nose just a few kitten-steps above Hazel's. "You can't possibly love him."

"I do," Hazel said again, closing her eyes, relishing in the sharp, clear image of Kale in her head.

Twist scoffed, the sound so wild that it nearly unbalanced her. "You're being ridiculous. You don't even know him."

"I know him. And he knows me. Better than anyone here. Better than _you."_

A flash of hurt crossed Twist's eyes before she could hide it. Hazel felt a fierce satisfaction at it until Twist opened her mouth and said, "You're so young. You think you're in love. You're just so young, Hazel."

"I am in love," Hazel said fiercely.

"You can't be," Twist snapped. "You're delusional."

"How old were you when you fell in love with Declan?" Hazel challenged, and despite their physical heights, she felt like she had gained the high ground.

Twist's expression soured until her face was all angles, her fur bristling. She was silent.

"I knew it," Hazel said, her voice too rough to be smug.

Twist clearly got the message. "I had to grow up much faster than you," she said softly, her voice ragged. "It was not a fate I wished for you, Hazel. I wanted you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy," Hazel snapped.

But Twist suddenly seemed deflated. She turned her head away, her expression wry. A short, humorless laugh came from her throat. "Love makes no one happy. At least not for long."

Perplexed by this suddenly somber Twist, Hazel said, "Then let me go and enjoy it while it lasts."

"No. That's out of the question."

Now Hazel's anger was back, snapping to full attention. "Then you're just as cruel as the Claws."

A sharp burst of pain came from Hazel's face. She rolled with the hit, like Streak had always taught her. The sting of shallow clawmarks burned her cheek.

She looked at Twist incredulously.

Twist still had her paw raised, the very tips of her claws gleaming in the light. She looked astonished at her own actions, her mouth open, her chest heaving, but she didn't apologize. Her voice was still even as she said, "You don't know what you're talking about. They've filled your head with pretty little lies. You didn't have to live through that."

"You hurt me," Hazel said, still astounded.

"You don't understand what it means to be you, Hazel," Twist went on, setting her paw down, her expression hard and level. "Not really. Do you know why I taught you to always close your eyes if you were in danger?"

Hazel, still bitter and resentful and half-considering fleeing away into the forest and back to Kale this instant, just stared at her. "So I never get to see who's chasing me," she snarled.

Twist didn't take the bait. She shook her head. "The Claws were made up almost entirely of cats like you, Hazel. Marked cats. Your eyes."

_Marked. _Riff had called her that. She hadn't known what it had meant then, but now she wondered if it hadn't been accidental when Kale had cut him off so suddenly.

"There's a cat on the loose now," she continued. "His name is Blackjack. If he finds you out in the woods and sees your eyes, he will kill you on sight. He won't hesitate. You'd be dead and lost in the woods forever and we'd never know what happened to you. Don't you see, Hazel?" Twist extended a paw to Hazel and Hazel didn't shrink away; despite it all, Twist's touch was still so comforting to her, like a mother's should be. "I want to protect you. But I can't protect you if you run away."

Hazel allowed her touch for a moment longer before carefully drawing away, ignoring the bright burst of some strong emotion across Twist's yellow eyes, the color no longer fiery.

"I will leave here," she said softly, looking down at Twist's paw. "As soon as I turn ten moon cycles old. Like we promised."

"Oh, Hazel." And now Twist finally sounded sad, something other than her fury, which had been burning so strongly for so long. "You can't leave."

It felt like all the air got sucked out of her lungs. "Wh-what?"

Twist looked at her levelly, though not without compassion. It was hidden deeply within the yellow of her eyes, just beneath the layer that still smoldered with the strength of her desperate anger. "Lucky gave the final word. He did from the first time your eye color showed. You can never be a real Slider."

* * *

><p><strong>So I finished City of Lost Souls and MY SOUL IS CRUSHED. Curse you, Cassandra Clare! Why did you make me love your characters when you so cruelly rip them away from me? -shakes fists at the heavens-<strong>

**Sigh. I need comfort food. But my house is sadly lacking in chocolate. **

**My mom suggested an apple. But I said I was hungry, not desperate. XD**

**Anyway, you know what to do.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	20. Alone and Together

**What the heck has happened to FFnet while I've been away? Everything is different! I DON'T LIKE IT!**

**I've been doing Camp NaNoWriMo, which is why I've been absent. On the plus side, I already won. On the downside, it took me three days longer to beat it than it took me for November's NaNo, so that's 50k in 17 days. Not bad, not bad. XD**

**So here I am, back and ready for some Float. **

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Like, she won't ever be able to go on patrol or go hunting or fishing or whatever. She'd have to stay inside all the time so no one would kill her. Majorly unhappy-making. XD**

**Sierra of the Stars - Ooh, I shall have to add in more timeline stuffs. I'm so bad at that, weather and season and stuff. I added more seasony stuff in this chapter to make up for it! :D**

**Minumus Prime - Looool! I guess Twist is a little badass. She needs to get into a fight so she can whip on some baddies, though. Perhaps I can arrange that. XD**

**reenakitty - I'm sorry, Shadowchan, but it had to be done. XD IT MUST BE DONE! Also, I will go back and change your name in whatever Float chapter it's in, but it might have to wait, 'cause this is my old computer and all my chaptery files are gone. It'll happen!**

**monkeyCsaw - Oh, no, I LOVE your ramblings and musings! I love to get the opinions of awesometastic writers. X3 I do love to write the purpley chapters. Oh so very much. XD **

**xxXCalming MelodyXxx - Hee~ You're feeling ALL the feels from that last chapter? XD I hope you feel lots of feels from this one, too. XD**

**Blazingnight - Kay! :D**

**justsmile77 - I find that Hazel lets in a bit of fresh angst to the story. Like, everyone already knows Declan and Twist from Sidestep and most of this, so it's a nice break to get to some different problems. Not to mention I just love busting loose and going all Young Adult Fiction on this mother. So many fancy words. I fancy myself a romantic anyway, so it's extra fun to bring that saccharine element to what I'm writing. In small doses, of course. XD **

**Tangleflame - I'm sorry! I've had a lot of computer trouble and writing trouble, but I'll be back to finish this! I promise! :D**

**Viper332 - Oh, no, I'm glad you think that! It's definitely intentional. XD I usually avoid more difficult character types - i.e. those types that people generally dislike - but I thought I'd take on the challenge this time and work outside my comfort zone. Hopefully by the end, her character will develop enough that you don't think she's a brat anymore! :D Twist has very conflicting feelings on love, which she tends to be very outspoken about. Declan is the exception to most of her most impassioned rants on the difficulties of love, which she realizes makes her a hypocrite. XD**

**Aaah, I love talking to you guys. Sorry I haven't been around - computer trouble! I'm back on LappyI because LappyII decided to break its own screen somehow. Not only did that get rid of my character list for this chapter - so some of them might be described differently - but it also deleted half of my original manuscript, so I had to start a new story mid-NaNo. ARGH. The difficulties of technology!**

**But enough of that. Let's get to it. X3**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>"It's official," Twist said, hunching her shoulders forward miserably, feeling the weight of her mistakes push her towards the ground. "I'm officially the worst cat in the world."<p>

Vivian let out a comforting purr. Stretching one white paw out to cover Twist's, she said, "Don't be too hard on yourself. You did the best you could. Hazel is headstrong; you've always known that. She's lucky that we found her so quickly, otherwise things could have been worse." Her dark eyes gleamed. "Much worse."

Twist looked away, swallowing hard. _As if I didn't already imagine that, _she thought. During the race through the forest, the Sliders at her back and Streak in the lead, Twist had seen Hazel's broken, bloody body in a thousand different ways. Ripped to pieces by the Claws, her eyes weeping rivulets of blood, her bones crushed beneath the weight of a no-pelt machine, her tail drifting in the wake of the drowning river. Each imagine had only driven her paws faster, so fast she felt like she was flying over the short grass scented with dying leaves, each step bringing her closer and closer to the little brown tabby she-cat she loved so dearly.

Now back sunning outside the Warren, Twist had gathered up her friends for a bit of comfort. _Like I wanted this, _she thought even more miserably. If anything, she wanted to curl in her den with only Declan to see her soft side. But he had vanished again and no one had caught sight of him.

Her thoughts immediately went to Dahlia but that was stupid: the pale she-cat had been exiled from this land. She wouldn't come anywhere near it if she valued her pretty pelt the way it was.

So where was he?

Kite sighed in sympathy, her expression pitying. "We all have problems with kits, Twist. You've had such difficulties because you weren't even more than a kit yourself when you took Hazel on."

Willow leaned forward from where she'd been warming her growing belly; she'd just announced that she was expecting River's kits, a glow in her eyes at the words. Twist felt a bit of jealousy for their happiness: she and River had such an easy-going relationship, without the complications of torn loyalty or mistrust. It was pure and simple love. That was all they needed. Even after Willow's previous mate had died in the war with the Claws, she had managed to move on and find a new start.

_If only I could rid myself of this nightmare the Claws have left. _Twist's claws sank into the soft, sun-warmed sand. _I will never be free from them as long as I'm alive. _

Willow said, "Kits are a messy business altogether. In my opinion, you did well. My first litter didn't do nearly so well. I mean, look at them."

She nodded her head to where her oldest son, Flicker, was staring up into a tree, listening to Viktor explain the methodology of catching birds; the young tom's attention was clearly elsewhere, with his tilted ears and his half-open mouth. A butterfly floated past on sun-yellow wings and he turned to watch its progress, unheeding of Viktor's warning of falling pinecones. One hit Flicker square in the head, knocking him sideways.

Willow shook her head. "Where did I go wrong? I'm going to say it comes from his father's side."

Kite scowled. "No shaming the passed, Willow."

Willow shrugged. "He can come down and smite me for it, I suppose. I wouldn't put it past the grouchy old tom. Always was a difficult one." Her eyes focused on her son, weary affection there. "He'll learn. I'm sure. I hope."

Twist watched Flicker be scolded by Viktor. The tom's ears went back solemnly, his tail curled with shame. _Well, at least he's apologetic about the whole thing. _

Vivian turned back to Twist after laughing with the other two she-cats. "What did Lucky say about her?" she asked, her voice hushed again.

Twist looked away, the fur on her neck prickling uncomfortably. "She's under constant supervision now. He makes sure at least one cat is with her at all times." She pulled a face. "Usually that's Streak."

Kite sighed heavily, her blue eyes mournful. "It's so sad," she whispered. "Streak tells me how unhappy she is. She just wants to go out and be free, like any cat her age would. How do you think she feels when Gray or Spot or any of her agemates go out and she has to stay inside? I see her face and my heart breaks for her."

"Your heart breaks for every cat, Kite," Willow said sleepily, crossing her forepaws and resting her chin on top. She missed Kite's sour look as she glared at the gray she-cat.

"I'm sorry I'm so empathetic, Willow. I'll try to work on that."

"Perhaps you can take some lessons from Lightfoot," Vivian suggested, her tone coy. She nodded over her shoulder to where the black-and-white she-cat was pacing along the outside of the Warren, her tail flashing from side to side. "She certainly knows how to be ruthless."

Twist had to admit she was right. Out of all the cats of the Warren, Lightfoot was by far the most vicious. In some respects, that worked. In others, she was nothing but a hurtling boulder. She'd take out anything in her path, even without knowing it.

Lightfoot caught sight of them, her sour expression deepening. "Having a nice chat today?" she asked coolly, coming to stand over them. She blocked out the sun, causing the light to spill down between her ears, cutting sharp shadows down her angular face. "Doing a lot of work, I see."

"Oh, hello, Lightfoot." Vivian immediately regained her nervousness, something Twist had thought she'd grown out of. "How are you?"

Lightfoot didn't even answer her. Turning to Twist, she said sharply, "Saw your brat today. She's looking peppy as ever. I told her good morning and she looked at me like I'd stolen her breakfast right from beneath her nose."

Twist felt a sharp burst of anger. "She's had a very hard couple of days, Lightfoot. I'm sure she's sorry for being so snappish to you."

Lightfoot looked amused. Falling onto her haunches and stretching her forepaws in front of her, she sighed blissfully. Settling onto her belly, she said, "Yes, I heard all about it. We all did. Our little youngling fell in love with one of the Claws. How unbearably romantic."

The atmosphere of the group changed at once. Most cats felt uneasy around Lightfoot generally but now it was something different. Kite stood and motioned vigorously with her tail for the others to join her.

"We'll let you have a bit of alone time," she said sweetly, anxiety in her swift movements. She turned to Lightfoot. "Have a good day."

Lightfoot twitched an ear in response.

As soon as the rest were out of earshot, Twist snapped, "Why are you even here? I don't recall asking your opinion on anything."

Lightfoot didn't look abashed. Her sharp green eyes fixed on Twist cuttingly, she said, "No, but I figured you could use it. I seem to be the only she-cat in this place not positively _oozing_ with sympathy for our little runaway. Maybe it's because I'm not a bleeding-heart romantic like the rest of you, but I think it's because I'm the only one who can see past all that pity rubbish to the heart of the matter."

"Which would be what?" Twist said disparagingly, glaring venomously at her. "Are you going to tell me I should have let things run its course? I should have allowed Hazel to keep running loose as she pleased? Or should I have let her go and live with those Claws in the cliffs—where, if you'll recall, the heart of the enemy came from—and watch from afar as she fell deeper and deeper in with them, until they broke her heart before they killed her? Is that what you were going to say, Lightfoot? Because I can't even begin to describe how much I'd _love _to hear your opinion!"

By the end, Twist was breathing heavily, standing with her shoulders tense. Her claws were sharp and unsheathed, curling into the ground like blackthorns, rooting her in place. Her mouth was open as she panted, cool air quickly drying out her tongue and throat.

Lightfoot hadn't moved. She didn't even twitch a whisker. "Feel better now?" she asked, her voice neutral.

Twist just stared at her. "No," she growled, but she was lying. The words leaving her mouth left such a rush of emptiness behind that it was relieving. Finally, she'd said all of it, the part she could never tell her she-cat friends in honesty. These words could only be said in Twist's fallback: anger.

Lightfoot seemed to realize that. She stretched backwards, her chin raising, her eyes glittering brightly like cut glass. "So now that that's out of the way, I need a favor."

"What makes you think I'll help you?" Twist hissed. "You've done nothing but play with me over and over again. You don't tell me what you want before you do anything. That's how you got Declan nearly killed by Blackjack and his goons. So please forgive me if I seem less than inclined to help you do anything."

"Well," Lightfoot said, an edge of anger curling up the end of her voice. "Firstly, I generally avoid asking you for favors, considering that, you know, it's _you." _Before Twist could think about what that meant, Lightfoot had swept on: "As for Declan, I asked him to help me and he did. He seems to do that quite often. Too often, if you ask me. He should learn to be more careful and thoughtful, like us."

Twist snorted. _Thoughtful? Lightfoot? I'd have a better chance of seeing mice sprout wings and do flips than see an ounce of thoughtfulness from this she-cat. _

"Declan will help anyone with a sob-story and a good bit of acting skills," Lightfoot said, her tone containing no heat. She didn't sound disgusted like her words would imply. "I asked him to help me and he agreed. If you have a problem with that, I'd ask you'd take it up with him."

"So what do you want with me, then?" Twist demanded. "I'm tired of hearing you go in circles."

Lightfoot rolled her eyes. She got to her feet, taking away the bit of intimidation Twist had standing: Lightfoot towered over her, the top of her black shoulder in line with Twist's ear-tips. "I'd like you to take me to an ally," she said. "A…mutual ally."

"Mutual?" Twist took an uneasy step back, away from Lightfoot's suddenly intense and unblinking gaze.

"Yes," she replied. "I've never met said ally before but I've heard wonders from you and your…Declan." Her eyes fell to coy slants. "Shall you introduce me to your mother, Twist?"

**XXXXXXX**

"This is creeping me out on a number of levels," Twist said as she and Lightfoot crouched outside Spirit's house, waiting for the no-pelt to let her out.

They'd been waiting here for a little less than half the afternoon, hidden within this screen of dark brambles and piled dead leaves; they were fragrant still with their mother scent of apples, leaving Twist's nerves soothed.

Lightfoot hadn't asked for much more than a visit. "You'll introduce me as a friend," she said.

_Obviously I can't introduce you as a sociopath. _Twist had said suspiciously, "What do you want with my mother?"

"Oh, the usual," Lightfoot said, sounding off-hand. "I'd like to meet all my friends' parents."

"I'm not your friend," she said. "And you're not mine."

"Oh, come now." Lightfoot lay in the shade of the brambles, the tip of her white-and-black tail flicking idly. "Don't be so cold to me, Twist. I've helped you before, remember?"

Twist remembered. "Only when it suited you."

"And it suits me now. So hush. You'll draw attention."

Twist had barely been able to contain her shriek of aggravation.

Now it was later. The afternoon was still high and warm, the cool wind from the mountains more easily felt here. It chilled deep within Twist's dark pelt, sending flashes of memory skipping across the surface of her mind.

Dark water. An island surrounded by rushes. The gleam of multicolored eyes. The scent of rotting flesh on a still-living body.

Twist closed her eyes. The Claws still reigned here, even if they were all gone.

The door opened with a squeaking sound. Twist barely had time to calm herself—fleeing was not an option here—before a flurry of cats flew out of the doorway and out into the yard.

Immediately, one of them called out, "Twist! Twist, I can smell you! Oh, Mother, Twist is here!"

A whirl of colorful tortoiseshell fur later and Twist had been discovered. Her half-sister Anole's green eyes were as bright and shining as their mother's.

"Twist!" Anole cried gleefully, tackling her to the ground. She rubbed her cheek against Twist's pinned shoulder, jabbering a thousand words per second. "I'd been wondering when I would get to see you again, especially considering how sad you were the last time you were here. And did you and Declan ever make up, because he certainly seemed depressed when I saw him last, which was the same time I saw you last, if you can believe it. I caught my first prey a few moon cycles ago and you weren't even here to see it but—"

"Let her _breathe, _Anole." Spirit made her appearance, her pelt matching Anole's, with just a bit more white around her face and back. She pushed her younger daughter back and helped Twist to her paws. "My dear heart," she purred, touching noses with Twist and licking between her eyes. "What brings this marvelous surprise?"

Twist exchanged a look with Lightfoot. _How are we going to explain this? Especially considering I have no clue why we're here. _

But Lightfoot wasn't paying attention to Twist's attempted mental conversation.

She strode forward silkily and, in a tone Twist had never heard come out of her mouth, said very cheerfully, "Good afternoon, Spirit! I'm Twist's friend Lightfoot. She's told me _so _much about you. I can't believe I finally get to meet the brave, strong, and intelligent mother of my _dear_ friend." She turned and shot an affectionate glance at Twist, ruffling her ears with one paw.

Twist felt her mouth drop open.

Spirit, a mountain cat through and through, could not resist the idea of praise. She looked instantly flattered, her ears falling to a contented sideways set. "Well," she said, sounding very pleased. "I'm afraid Twist has told me nothing about you." She shot Twist a hard look then as Lightfoot turned to follow Teddy to a sunny spot, as if trying to demand an explanation.

Twist, still flummoxed by this turn of events, simply stared idiotically at her mother, unable to articulate a response. She settled down beside Lightfoot, feeling powerfully confused, but Lightfoot was giving no hints.

Instead, she was chatting happily with Teddy, like they were old friends. "Oh yes," she said, in response to a question Twist hadn't caught. "The cold season always brings its troubles but we're fattening up while we can. The prey runs very well down towards the brook and along where the no-pelts live. Oh, I'm sorry: _housefolk," _she corrected herself, reaching out a paw to place over one of Teddy's massive ones in an affectionate gesture Twist didn't even know Lightfoot was capable of accomplishing.

Teddy seemed used to this kind of thing, however, because he simply laughed. "Yes, we've been having a bit of a bad season, too. The rain drowns out the yard this time of the year so we've been inside for most days. We can't go visit our friends further down until it stops. A wet pelt means nothing but sickness, you know. We have to stay inside to make sure we don't catch cold."

"You have friends in the area?" Lightfoot asked, tipping her head to the side curiously.

"Not in this area, no. It's a bit further down, on the other side of the no-pelts roads. A hard place, though. We get interrogated whenever we go there."

"Oh?" Lightfoot shifted from side to side, as if she were lying on something uncomfortable, even though the ground was even and silky grass.

"It's very odd. An odd bunch of cats down that way. Very set in laws." He shook himself. "But the rain is the main problem."

"It's terrible. You're lucky you came today," Spirit said, interrupting herself in mid-lick from where she was grooming Anole's neck fur. "Has the rain been bad for you?"

Twist shook her head, her mind still reeling from the bizarreness of this. But she wasn't going to let whatever Lightfoot was up to ruin a perfectly good visit with her mother. "A few of our nests were ruined but other than that, we're surviving."

Anole, her eyes half-closed against her mother's ministrations, said, "I don't know why you don't find yourself a good bunch of housefolk and settle down. It's a much better option than living out in the wild." She shivered at the thought of that.

Twist let out a soft hum. "Yes, coming from someone who's never been out in the wild."

Anole sniffed. "I'm not meant to be a wildcat. I might pretend every so often with my brothers but I'm not about to go out there and get all raggedy and starving." She gave Twist a very pointed look.

Spirit boxed her daughter in the ears. "You hush," she scolded. "Wildcats are stronger and smarter than pretty little housecats like you."

"I'm plenty strong," Anole protested, squirming away from her mother.

_I notice you didn't protest the "smarter" part, _Twist thought. As fond as she was of her half-sister, Twist had to admit that Anole seemed much more action and much less forethought than any cat she knew. That kind of mentality simply didn't work, as Anole had said, "out in the wild."

Seeming to realize she would get no sympathy, Anole tossed her head, her tail high in the air. "I'm going to visit Sparrow," she announced, like she meant it as a punishment. "I _might_ be back later, if I feel like it."

"You will be back unless you want a set of bent whiskers," Spirit snapped back. She sighed as Anole went on her way, her tail waving. "Honestly, that she-cat. She gives me much more trouble than you ever did, Twist."

"Sparrow lives away from here now?" Twist felt a bit of surprise at that. She understood that housecats didn't always keep their families together—no no-pelt seemed to want a houseful of cats—but she hadn't realized he'd be gone so soon.

Teddy nodded. "He lives a few houses down. Stride and Ruger live together on the other side of the village. We still see them from time to time but they have their own lives now. It's always nice when they come to visit, though." He looked fond as he talked about his sons. "Anole still stays with us, which is good. I think I'd miss her too much if she were gone for too long."

"I'd miss her like a thorn in my side," Spirit muttered, but she didn't mean it.

Lightfoot purred—the sound was still so foreign to Twist. "It must be hard to be separated from your kits, Spirit."

"It is," Spirit agreed wearily. "It's easier with my new litter because I know they're being taken care of. It's harder for you, Twist dear. I worry about you."

Before Twist could say anything, Lightfoot let out a sound of sympathy. "Yes, it would be better if she came to be a housecat, wouldn't it? Confirmed safety at all times. It would be remarkably lovely for a cat to be so safe and so protected all the time, wouldn't it, Twist?" She turned her suddenly sharp gaze on Twist, tilting her head to the side.

Twist stared back uncomprehendingly. _What are you trying to imply? _She was perfectly happy with the Sliders, and though she liked visiting her mother, she could never be a housecat. It was too much of the same for her. She liked the listless wildness of being a Slider.

Spirit seemed to pick up on the strange vibe, too, because she very rapidly changed the subject. "How's Declan, dear? And Hazel? Tell me how she's doing."

"Declan's fine," Twist said, relieved to not be lying for the first time in a long while. "He's very taken with patrolling our territory now, ever since—well, ever since we had a bit of a complicated problem going on." She didn't want to worry her mother with Blackjack and his ilk. He lived on the opposite side of the valley, anyway: he was no threat to her. "Hazel, on the other paw… She's a challenge."

Spirit's eyes gleamed like reflective water. "She's like you," she said fondly. "I want to meet her so badly. When will you bring her to me?"

Twist dodged the question quickly. "Her training is still progressing. Perhaps after that."

Spirit looked unhappy about that but she didn't push the matter. The gang's mentality still weighed heavily with her: pressing someone for answers would get you nothing but lies, even for her own daughter. "I understand."

Lightfoot seemed less inclined to talk after that. She lay back and allowed the conversation to flow around her, keeping her eyes half-open. She wouldn't sleep while on unfamiliar territory, no matter how comforting it appeared—just like Twist. Twist could see her mind working, just behind her pale eyes, but she couldn't figure out what exactly was happening within Lightfoot's strange, disjointed brain.

Eventually, it started to look like rain again. The clouds had encroached over the sun, hovering above the land blackly, like a shadow.

Twist stood as the air turned charged with electricity. "We should go," she said. "This storm is not looking very friendly."

Spirit stood immediately. "You can stay here if you'd like. Weather the storm. Then you can go home." She pressed her nose to Twist's. "I don't want you out in this storm."

"Oh, Mother," Twist said, allowing affection into her voice. She pushed her cheek against Spirit's. "Remember, I'm a wildcat. I can handle the storm."

Spirit laughed a bit, the sound very soft. "I forget sometimes how strong you are. How strong I used to be."

"You're still strong," Twist said. She licked her mother's cheek and stepped back. "I'll be back soon."

"Alright." Spirit's eyes brightened. "Bring Declan next time. I do love to look at handsome toms." Teddy cleared his throat very loudly, his tail swishing, and Spirit added, "_More _handsome toms, considering I already have the handsomest tom at home."

They touched noses and Twist felt a peculiar mix of fondness and disgust: just because she was happy for her mother didn't mean she wanted to see Spirit cooing over a tom in her presence.

They said their goodbye—Lightfoot's as cheerful as her hello—and they went off. They had only just managed to get into the trees when the rain started, sprinkling down in fine drops. It caught and shone in the weak storm light like silver.

Lightfoot was uncharacteristically silent for most of the time, though she had lost that cheerful maniacal gleam. _An act, _she thought. _A clever one. _Despite not being entirely normal, Lightfoot certainly knew how to pretend to be normal.

Twist warred with keeping silent—who knew what Lightfoot had been up to—but curiosity finally won.

"Why did you want to meet my mother?" she asked, watching Lightfoot out of the corners of her eyes. She blinked away rainwater that was falling from between her ears, licking it to temper her dry throat.

Lightfoot didn't look abashed for an instant. "I wanted to give you a few ideas on how to deal with Hazel."

"How to deal…with Hazel?" Twist felt confused.

Lightfoot rolled her eyes. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I can't imagine how you wouldn't, but Hazel is a whisker-length away from breaking from the Warren and never coming back. She wants freedom but she can't have it. Because of her mother. And because of her eyes." She turned to Twist, passion suddenly alighting in her eyes, making them blaze like sunlight. "Don't you see, Twist? You can bring Hazel here. She can live in this—village." The word was obviously unfamiliar to her but she pushed through anyway. "With your mother. With some housefolk who will care for her."

"And be a pet?" Twist was disgusted. Annoyance flicked along her skin like a cloud of gnats. "What kind of life is that for a Slider?"

"You don't get it." Lightfoot's words were abrupt. "Hazel's not a Slider. She won't _ever _be a Slider. She's a prisoner. You and Declan and Lucky are forcing her to stay in a place she's rapidly starting to hate. Do you know what kind of torture that is? Do you know how much she's going to hate you because of it?"

Twist flinched at her words. She couldn't help it.

Lightfoot pressed on, cruelly twisting in her words. "_This_ is an option. Actually, it's not an option: it's the solution. The solution for your problem and for hers."

"Hazel is _not _a problem," Twist hissed. "Audrey entrusted her to me. You expect me to ignore that debt?"

"Audrey entrusted a newborn kit to you," Lightfoot said dismissively. "She didn't take into consideration that that kit would become like Hazel. That she would find something out in the world she wanted to hold onto. Before that thing was ripped from her claws."

Twist bared her fangs. "That _tom _is nothing but—"

"I wasn't talking about him, you simpleton," Lightfoot snapped, showing that uncharacteristic heat again. "I'm talking about _freedom. _She had it and now she'll never have it again."

"What do you even care?" Twist demanded, hiding her anger behind frustration. She was right, every single word. Every fear Twist had had about Hazel, laid bare and bleeding, like an exposed nerve. She seethed with anger, her pelt standing with it. "Why are you so concerned about Hazel? You don't like her. You don't like anyone! Not anyone since Beck and probably not even him."

Lightfoot's nostrils flared. The edges of her lips curled up, exposing just the hint of her teeth. "Don't mistake me for a fool, Twist," she said softly, dangerously. "My concern is not for Hazel. She's strong. She'll survive whatever you put her through. But she'll be broken because of it. If you care for her, you'll consider anything. Love makes you do stupid, stupid things. You know that. I know that. And while I may not understand love except as a weakness, I have been shown many times over that it is a marvelous instigator—for good and for bad. So please forgive me if my attempts to save the life of a young she-cat are insulting to you. I'll try to work on that."

She stormed off, the rain slicking her fur back to a dark shadow across her shoulders. As her form disappeared into the rain and the water forced itself deeper into Twist's fur until it lay against her skin, Twist felt each of those words sting deep in her.

_Why would she do this for Hazel? _Twist just couldn't comprehend it. _Does she see some sort of resemblance between herself and Hazel? _The thought was unnerving.

Maybe Lightfoot had struck onto something. Hazel could not be happy here. Not with everything stripped from her. Perhaps further away, back in Spirit's village, she could be happy. Or at least more happy than she was now.

_I would go with her. _There wasn't a doubt in her mind. If Hazel was to go somewhere, Twist would be with her—that was a no-brainer. Audrey had given Twist her trust: that wasn't something Twist took lightly.

_ Declan could come, too. _That was less certain. He was awfully attached to the Warren and their cats, but perhaps he could be persuaded to come, too. It wouldn't take much: especially considering that Hazel would be going.

Twist sighed, feeling the rain chill her skin. Then she took off running again, resignation in every step, as she headed to the Warren to speak with Lucky.

* * *

><p><strong>Alrighty, that's that. XD Hope you guys like it~ Remember, I do love to hear your feedback, so don't be shy. I just request polite concrit: criticism that is cutting has no nutritional value for writers, and I really don't get why people think it does. <strong>

**Like, that'd be like someone baking bread for the first time and going, "Hey, I know you love bread, so here's some bread I just made. Don't worry about it; it's free! You can eat as much as you want and if you want some more, I'll make some more for you!" and someone else going, "First of all, this bread sucks. Never bake again. Second of all, because you did so horribly on baking this bread for the first time, you are a terrible human being. Please die in a fire."**

**That takes the "con" right out of "concrit." Fo realz.**

**Anyway, enough with my monologuing. **

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	21. Fear and Fury

**That moment when you realize you haven't updated in so long that the entire site has changed its format...**

**Gosh, sorry, everybody. I've been reaaaally busy with school and other writing things that this stuff has fallen to the back-burner. I've been trying to job-hunt, which is difficult and kind of depressing. I wish that I could just win the lotto and not have to deal with this whole work-for-a-living thing. Blurrrr.**

**But seriously, it took me like ten minutes to figure out how to upload a chapter. It's really quite tragic. **

**SO MANY REVIEWS. Okay, let's start from the beginning. XD**

**monkeyCsaw - Aaw, I missed you too! I really do miss the loveliness of writing and getting feedback. It's much easier to tell when I start sucking. XD**

**Twistedstep - Waaah, hi, new reviewer! -waves- I really like your penname! Man, I guess I worried everybody, huh? Don't worry; if I ever decide to not update anymore, I'll put an AN or something. Or pass this fic off to another writer to finish. I wonder if anybody would even want it, lololol. **

**Silvertail of shoreclan - Haha, sabbatical is a very good way to put it! XD But yes, I have returned! Ooh, you're right, there wasn't a lot of Declan in that last chapter. But don't worry, 'cause this is a Declan POV chapter! XD**

**viper332 - Don't worry, I put in a dash of romance in this chapter, just for you! XD**

**reenakitty - I'm working around a bit of newish plot, but it definitely involves Beloved Vegetable Child. I really do like him, and I wanna flesh him out more so he's just not the bishounen love interest that fades away in the background. XD Waah! I made a mistake?! Now you're going to think I'm, like, a human! I mean - of course I'm a human. Pssh, wh-why would you think otherwise? -hides machinery back inside chest- Ooh, I shall go change your name tout de suite. **

**justsmile77 - Dude, no problem, because I adore writing Lightfoot, almost more than I love writing Declan. I think, in order, my faves go: Twist, Lightfoot, Declan, Hazel. Only until the little peabrain gets a little bit more mature, of course. XD**

**Blazingnight - I know, right? I've gotten like three of those so-called warnings. But whatevs, you know, 'cause they just add to my review count. XD**

**Sinora Saphire - Haha, I'm glad you feel ALL the feels! Maybe you'll feel even more in this one. XD**

**Guest - Yup, I was doing that then. I finished and had a little break and now I'm back for hopefully more regular updates. XD**

**SnakeLover01 - Oh hiiiiiii, new reviewer! You mean like is that chapter the end of my Twist stories? Nope. Float the end of my Twist stories? Yes. There won't be anymore fics from me after this one is done. **

**Icejjj - Oh, wow, a French reviewer! Bonjour! Merci beaucoup pour lisé mon histoire! (I don't know how to say fanfiction in French so it was either histoire or livre, and livre seems kind of pretentious. XD) My French is appallingly bad but hopefully will be better by the end of this year! XD**

**alicia88 - Wow, thanks! -flattered- I really do love writing long things. Shorter stories don't do it for me. XD**

**Cinderstar377 - Sorry it took so long but here's a nice long update! :D**

**lemonsmakemylemonade - Yeah, I think she's the one who got me. They report me all the time on their little forum thing, I've been told. I mean, whatever, I'm not gonna make it a big deal, you know? It's best to just ignore them. They're a fad anyway. X3 I really like song number three on your list. SO CATCHY. **

**Lilyfire - Thanks! Great penname! :D**

**Leafwing-Jayfeather Lover - AAH! WE ARE SHOUTING! XD And okay, here's an update for ya! :D**

**Alrighty. Whew. That took awhile. Thanks for reviewing, everybody~! Looks like I got a ton of new reviewers. I always seem to get those in spurts. Did someone recommend me or something, or is it just one of those things? XD**

**Enough blather!**

**Onto the story~ **

* * *

><p>Declan opened his eyes.<p>

He was out in the forest, the fog encroaching over his body. He felt it sink against his pelt, a silent whisper of cold and of damp. It lay across his fur like a skin, curling the tips of the hairs with beads of moisture.

He breathed out, once, sharply.

_In the woods, _he thought. He whipped around, staring behind him. It was a new moon, which offered no light to see by. The path was curling with mist; it rose in smoke-like wisps, each breath of cold wind making patterns dance in the white-gray fog.

Declan shivered as an icy bite of wind sank into his skin.

_How am I here? Oh, stars, have I dreamed this again? _

It had been moon cycles since he'd woken up out in the forest, alone and frightened. At least this time his dream hadn't been a nightmare that had sent him screaming in his mind, his paws bloodied against the near-frozen ground. No, this time it had been almost worse.

Homecoming. But not to the Warren.

Declan groaned, digging his forehead into his paws. It felt like if he pushed hard enough, he could get those images, those emotions, out of his head.

He had definitely not been frightened this time. He'd been _happy. _

_Please, please let me be mistaken. Let this be a horrible dream. Just let me wake up in my den with Twist at my side and let everything be okay. _

But it wasn't. This was real: the frost on the trees was real, the wind swishing through his fur was real. Even the soft night sounds—the owls calling softly, their voices like wind from the mountains, and the dark creaking of shifting trees—cemented him in this moment, this truth.

And he hated every second of its traitorous reality.

Getting to his paws after a quick inspection of his pelt—scratches and scrapes and bruised paw pads—he began to run. His lungs protested at it. _I must have run this whole way, _he thought, panting as he strained. _What was I running for? _

It hadn't even been the Claws this time. He was in the wrong territory for that.

So what was it?

Declan ignored everything around him as he ran. With every step, fear encroached more deeply into his heart, worming its way into every nerve in his body.

Shadows panted down his neck. Whispering voices curled deeply into the fur of his ears, drowning out the helpful sounds. He was utterly helpless.

He ran faster, his breathing sharp and shallow, each cold inhale a shard of ice in his lungs. _Twist, _he thought, imagining her. She would be warm and safe, surrounded by cats who loved her. She was fine. He could breathe safely about that.

Hazel. She was something else entirely. Wilting like a dry flower with no sun. Every day that passed, she was fading. Declan's heart ached to look at her, let alone be near her. But he did. He loved her, truly and dearly. She would always be a little sweet kit to him: friendly to everybody, talkative to no end, filled with a bright, vivacious spark for life.

Now she was nothing but a shade of whom she was. Heartbroken and dull-eyed, she just lay around in her new den all day long, guarded by Adder and Whisper and Violet, ignoring everybody who tried to talk to her. She was just blank.

Declan's heart ached for her. _If I could, I would let you leave this place, _he thought as he came upon the Warren, gasping and breathless from his run. He passed by the watch-guard Iggy, the old scraggly tom, and entered the only home he'd ever loved. The metal and box-nest tangle looked suddenly austere in the half-light from the non-existent moon. _I would let you go where your heart led you. Like my heart led me. _

But that wasn't possible. Not in this era of hatred, not in this life full of danger. Hazel's eyes set her apart, they always had. In any other life, she would be admired for them. In this one, they condemned her to a bloody and violent death at the paws of Blackjack and his followers, those Watchers who claimed they were helping the world by ridding them of marked cats.

He made a snap-decision and turned from the normal path, the one that would lead him back to Twist. Ducking beneath the edge of the main metal pipe, he curved downwards, towards the lower tiers of nests where the younger cats lived.

_Younger cats and prisoners_, he amended.

Hazel's nest was guarded as usual. Today it was Max and Marco, each looking stronger with every passing moon cycle. Marco had always been powerful; Declan still remembered him as the young black-and-white tom dying to prove himself. Max had only improved from the night he'd nearly been killed by the Claws, outgrowing his disabilities until he was one of the sharpest-eared cats in the entire Sliders.

He was the one who noticed Declan first, his head turning quickly to the side, eyes widening as he spotted Declan. "Oh," he said, his voice light despite his growing age. "You're up late tonight."

Declan nodded, looking away uneasily. "Bad dreams," he said shortly. "I had to walk it off."

Max's eyes glimmered with sympathy. "I understand. The battle still gets to me too. I see all those faces every night…" He trailed off and shuddered, his eyes falling shut.

"Why are you here?" Marco spoke up, his voice low with suspicion.

But before Declan could say anything, Max spoke up again. "Step away, Marco. This isn't your business." Without waiting for his friend to reply, Max pushed Marco to the side. He nodded to Declan. "We'll go for a walk for a bit, if you want privacy. I know she's missed you, even if she doesn't say it."

Declan felt a little bubble of relief. Though he wouldn't say anything to Hazel that could cause trouble if repeated, it was nice to know the simple luxury of a private conversation still existed, even with everything else changing. He bumped foreheads with Max, who purred and led Marco away. Marco glowered warily at Declan over his friend's shoulder but allowed it.

He went inside the den, his eyes adjusting to the darkness very quickly.

Hazel was awake, lying on her side at the back of the den, facing away from him. Her shoulders were slumped forward, her cheek resting on the ground, her moon-silvered whiskers drooped. Not even the tip of her tail twitched as he approached her, even though she absolutely recognized the sound of his steps. They'd been in her memory since before she could see.

Declan lay down next to her, folding his paws beneath his chest, and said nothing. Hazel didn't say anything either; they sat in profound silence. The night wind gusted in, bringing the smell of frost to Declan's nose. He lifted his muzzle to enjoy it. The hot-season was fine but he thrived on the snow. It would soothe his nightmares, maybe even obliterate them.

The quiet lasted for a long time. Declan, still plummeting from his waking nightmare, had no inclination to sleep. Hazel appeared to be beyond sleep, in some sort of half-trance stage where she lay completely still, her breathing slow and deep and even. Declan could hear the soft beats of her heart better than his own.

Finally: "I guess you're here to lecture me." Hazel didn't move even as she spoke but he could see the silver of her whiskers gleam in the dusty yellowish light from the housefolk lamps far in the distance.

Declan let out a soft humming sound in the back of his throat. "You'd be wrong."

"Then why are you here?" she challenged. No heat came into her voice but something did: something weak and stilted and broken, like splintered glass. "Isn't this how it was always going to end up? Me, alone and angry, pushed into a box at the bottom of the Warren and praying that everyone would forget me? Am I supposed to end up like that cat who tried to kill Sorrow? Forced below ground and kept without food or sunlight for the rest of my life?"

"Hardly," Declan said softly.

She was right, about that tom. He'd been here for so long and he'd never spoke again, just as he promised. He received a piece of prey everyday but that was it. No walks out in the forest. No laying in the sunlight. He was wilting like a flower, emaciated with long claws and lank fur. He wouldn't last much longer. Neither would Hazel. Like vines with no light.

He looked away, shaking those thoughts from his head. Hazel wasn't a traitor, not like that cat. "That was never the plan."

"Then what was?" She rolled to face him, her expression beyond furious. Her eyes were flat and hard as glass, the colors still beautiful even in her listless anger. The yellow burned like the sun, the blue like a vengeful sky. "Tell me! You owe me that much, don't you? After all you've done to me? What you've _all_ done to me. Lying and betraying me with every step, with every question I've ever asked. All I've ever gotten out of you were lies—"

"What have we ever done but try to keep you safe, Hazel?" Declan's throat was tight and dry. An achy sorrow echoed through him, rattling along in his chest and vaulting off his bones. "We did what we did because we love you."

"You should have told me," she said, her words hissing out from between her teeth. "You should have told me from the start, not led me on to believe that I would be allowed to be normal. I've lived my life waiting to become a Slider and now I can't. Don't you get it? I don't have anything. Not pride or friends or parents or…or love—"

"What else could we have done?" Declan asked sadly. Hazel was watching him with such strong dislike that he felt his heart ache with it. _This wasn't what I wanted either, _he thought. _I never wanted you to hate me for trying to protect you. _"It was a choice between two evils. We could have told you from the beginning that you couldn't leave here and had you be depressed for your whole life, or—"

"Or wait until I had already known life before you crushed it," Hazel finished viciously. She pushed herself to her paws, sitting with her bristling tail behind her, her ears erect, her fur on end. She was rage incarnate, a sweeping wildfire. Fury danced in her beautiful eyes. She hissed, "Don't you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you know how I have to live the rest of my life, never being free? You can go outside whenever you want, hunt for the Sliders, for _Twist. _I don't get that luxury. I don't get to be free. I'm a trapped bird. And I'll be here until I die."

Declan dipped his head, his eyes stinging as if from smoke. Bitterly, he whispered, "I think about that every day, every second. I live with that every day."

"No you don't. _I _live with that. And now I'll live with it for the rest of my life, knowing that if my eyes were the same color, I could be out in the forest, running and hunting and actually _living. _I'll be a prisoner for the rest of my life." She swung out a forepaw and raked her claws through her bedding, letting out a stifled screech. "It's _maddening, _is what it is. I'm going crazy just staying in here, wasting away to nothing! There's nothing in this life for me if I have to stay here all the time. I'd rather be _dead._"

Declan's breath was sharp as pine needles in his chest. "Don't you _dare _say that, Hazel. Don't you dare. That is _not_ an option in this case."

"And why not?" She turned to face him, shoulders hunched, eyes wild. "Why not? Just kill me and get it over with. My life's done anyway, isn't it? What's left for me but to stay in the Warren for the rest of my life? Tell me!"

Declan gritted his teeth. Helpless and trying not to show it, he said, "I…I'm not going to talk to you when you're behaving this way."

Her eyes widened, like she couldn't believe he'd just said that. He couldn't believe it himself, regretting the words almost immediately. "_Behaving this way? _What way would that be, Declan? The way where I'm a prisoner? Or the way where I stay in the Warren and rot like carrion?"

"You're just…" But he didn't have any more words. This was Twist's territory, not his. He only knew the side of Hazel that was lonely or sad or loving, not this vicious Hazel, suffocating within this space. His instincts were screaming at him to comfort her, not scold her. To go to her side and draw her close and whisper that everything would be alright, that he would fix it, whatever was wrong he would make it better. That was his job. He wasn't the scolder, the teacher. He was there for her, unconditionally, but now he wasn't. He was all the father she had. Whatever she'd done wrong—and she had done wrong in this situation, as had he—he couldn't bear to punish her any further.

So instead, he sighed, completely and utterly defeated.

And Hazel knew she had him.

She took that as weakness. He saw it snap into place in her eyes, like a falling rock lodging in the exact perfect nook. Dislike. Horror. Disbelief. "So you have nothing to say, is that it?"

Declan had a thousand things to say but none of them would do anything, would mean anything, especially not to Hazel in her current condition. _I love you. Just know that I love you. I never meant to do this to you. If I could, I would take your place. Stars, I would do it in a heartbeat. Don't hate me for this, Hazel. Please, my daughter, my darling. I love you so much that I'm breaking. _

He bowed his head.

Hazel scoffed, the sound horrible and bitter and exactly like Twist. Exactly. "Then just leave me alone."

_Please let me stay here. _But he knew better than to ask her that. She'd already turned her shoulder to him again, once more coldly ignoring him. With a heavy pit in his stomach, weighing him down like a stone, Declan turned and walked out of the den, letting Hazel's small form be swallowed up by the shadows.

Outside, Max and Marco took several quick steps backwards as Declan exited, trying and failing to look innocent.

"Eavesdroppers," Declan said, without even the energy to be upset about it. He felt completely drained, like there was no more blood left in his body. It took effort to even think of how to speak, let alone to work up a gentle scolding.

Max, to his credit, looked guilty but Marco didn't. "We'll have to tell Lucky about this."

Something panged deep in Declan's chest, like a burr caught in his pelt. Sharp and painful. "Of course," he said. "Go right ahead. I understand."

Max took a dainty step forward, what was left of his ears at a sympathetic slant. "Declan…"

Declan shook his head. "Go back to work, you two. Thanks for letting me speak to her."

He knew they were probably exchanging a loaded glance behind him but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was to see Twist. He had to. The desire burned in his blood like fire, tangling up his thoughts. She was the only balm to his feverish brain.

The winding path below his feet was a tangle of gray shadows but he knew it by heart and was not afraid of falling.

XXXXXXXX

Twist awoke him early the next morning with a gentle nudge. "Declan," she said. "I have to tell you something."

He lifted his head, his mind still fuzzy from sleep. It had been thick and heavy, soaking into every inch of him like warm water. _Finally, _he thought. _A good night of sleep. Of course it had to come after another walking nightmare. _

Twist's expression was blank, which was his first warning that something was wrong. The other was the presence of Streak behind her, who looked transparently anxious, his eyes wide and his pelt spiked.

Declan jerked to his paws, standing with difficulty. "What's happened?"

Twist shared an uneasy look with Streak then began to speak in a rapid voice. Declan, still half-asleep, leaned forward, shaking his head to make sure the words sank in properly.

She explained that she'd spoken with Lucky the previous evening after an outing with Lightfoot, which was alarming in and of itself. Together, they had gone to see Spirit, and Lightfoot had laid out a plan for Hazel's future.

"Wait," he said, blinking rapidly. "You mean we're moving? To where?"

"That's the problem." Twist put her mouth to the side, her tail curling into a loop behind her. "We don't know. Lucky said he believes it's a good idea, but…"

Declan leaned forward. "But?"

Streak spoke now. "But it's dangerous. Living outside these walls… Well, that's something that no one's done before. We only have three generations here—four at best—but still…it's a daunting thought."

"That's not true. What about all the other cats who joined up with the Sliders? Kite and Flint and Max. Even Lucky and Wisp. They all lived outside the Warren."

Streak looked unhappy. "It's just…dangerous. I was born here. This is my home, but—" He stopped very suddenly. Then something clicked in his eyes and he looked up, the yellow of his irises seeming brighter than usual, and harder, like glass. "But if Hazel is going somewhere, I am, too."

Twist made a soft sound. "Streak, you've done your duty. This is—"

"This has nothing to do with my duty." His voice flat, dry. He had none of his usual indirectness. Every word was straight to the point. "You can try to stop me but I'll find a way to come, too. Hazel's not going anywhere where I can't follow. I'm sorry."

"You don't sound very sorry." Declan, despite his shock at Twist's new plan, felt a curl of something very new in his stomach, something hot and protective. Streak had laid his words out like a slab of stone: unyielding and strong. Declan had never seen this side of the young tom before and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Twist clearly thought similarly, because she said rather gruffly, "There's no need for such dramatics, Streak. No one's going anywhere yet. These are just…preliminary plans. Strategies."

Streak suddenly seemed to realize what he'd said. Tucking his tail down low and swishing it, his eyes on the floor, he just nodded. "I wanted to make sure that—" He stopped again, his eyes tightening, but he didn't say anything else.

Twist narrowed her own eyes shrewdly, and Declan could see the thoughts working in her mind like tumbling stones in the brook. "Anyway," she said, turning back to Declan. "Lucky wants to go scout out some territory himself, far away from the Watchers' territory and their _hunting grounds_." Her voice made the final two words into a curse, spitting them out like poison. "We'd need somewhere far away to keep them at bay. We could send a force of Sliders there to make sure the marked cats are safe and—"

"All of them? Not just Hazel?"

Twist nodded. "We have a fair amount of them, considering the Claws released all our members who were…repossessed." She wrinkled her nose at that. "Hazel is obviously _my _main concern but if we want this to work, we need Lucky's approval. Breaking away from the group would be a poor choice considering our options. It would leave us vulnerable, and the Sliders, too. Not to mention the fact that we have so many enemies now. The Claws and Sorrow and the Watchers. Not to mention the usual ones: foxes and badgers and dogs and no-pelts. If we leave, it'll be dangerous, but I think it'll be worth it."

Declan felt a kick of shock. "Is that what you were thinking of doing?"

She made a slight face. Turning to Streak, she said, "You can go back to work now. You're done here."

He frowned. "If you're talking about Hazel, I should be here."

Flatly, Twist said, "No you shouldn't. Your loyalty lies to the Sliders, remember? And I believe you're needed on a hunting patrol. Viktor told me not to let you moon around Hazel's den all day like you've been doing. It's not right and it's not healthy."

Streak looked furious. "But—"

"Enough, Streak. I get that you're upset about this—you're her friend, after all…"

"Best friend," he corrected her. "I'm her best friend."

Twist's eyes slanted. "Yes," she said slowly. "But that's enough for now. Let this drop." Then, in her most velvet voice, the one Declan heard only rarely, she said gently, "Go get your mind off of everything, okay? I'm worried about you, too, you know. You don't have to suffer like this. Now go find Viktor." She pressed her cheek to his, a brief show of affection.

Streak stood resilient for a moment longer, his shoulders hunched. Then he licked his lips. "If…if anything changes…"

"Then you'll be the first to know." Twist gave him a firm stare and he seemed to get the idea. As he scurried away, Twist let out a long, heavy sigh. "I swear," she said, turning back to Declan, that distance completely gone from her expression. "That tom will never outgrow being a kit."

"Some of them never do. I think it's working for him, though, don't you think?"

Twist let out a musing sound, half-hum and half-growl. "He's a bonehead."

Declan laughed weakly. Everything about him felt weak today. Hazel's angry face burned behind his closed eyelids like a firebrand. It ached to even think of her.

"Twist," he said slowly.

She turned to him, her yellow eyes liquid. "I know," she said softly.

Declan dropped his gaze to the ground. "Are you…are you sure this is right? We promised our lives to the Sliders. To protecting them. And now just leaving them feels…"

Twist's nose touched his cheek gently, surprising him. A purr rose up through her body, vibrating in Declan's bones.

"I know," she said again, but this time it was a whisper. She leaned into him, her face against his red shoulder. "But this is a way we can help them. We'll go with the marked cats. We'll protect them. It'll be just like this, I promise."

"But Hazel," he said, his voice cracking.

"She'll come with us. She'll be safe. Even if I have to sacrifice my own life, my happiness, _anything_, I'll do it. For her. I love her enough to make that sacrifice." There was a slow beat of silence, soft as a heartbeat. "But I won't sacrifice yours. You don't have to come."

Declan said at once, "You're crazy if you think I'd stay away. If you're going, I'm going. I'm nothing without you, Twist. You should know that by now."

Twist breathed out, a warm spot on Declan's shoulder. It was as comforting as her scent, which was wreathing around him. "I just wanted to make sure we were still in tune."

His heart swelling, Declan reached down to press his nose to the top of her head, licking her ears gently. "We are always in tune."

And for a moment, it was just warm silence. Twist leaned her head against his shoulder. Declan thought back to the wildness of their younger days, back when he saw her for the first time. She'd been a firebrand herself, a spark in the middle of a dry land, just waiting for the right time to raze the forest. Now she'd calmed down, settled a bit, but she'd never lost that spark, that fire, that had made Declan fall in love with her, all those moon cycles ago.

Then Declan had to break it. "But where will we go?" he asked her, looking down at the sun-gilded shape of her black ears and her narrow head. _She is so beautiful. _"Where can we go that's not Claw territory or Watchers'?"

"I've already thought about that, too." Twist drew back away from him. "Lightfoot wants her to move to my mother's village. It's safe there; Hazel could become a housepet. Obviously I would go with her—and you." She shook her head. "But that's not what I want for her. Hazel has wild blood in her. She wouldn't be happy as a pet. She would be just as miserable there, maybe even more, because she would never go outside."

"Then what's the solution?" Declan's imagination winged out but he couldn't come up with any ideas. "There's nothing to be done. It's either this or that. It's prison either way."

"No," Twist said. "It's not."

Declan looked at her curiously. "If not there, then where?"

Meeting his eyes evenly, she said, "Do you remember what I said earlier? That I would sacrifice my own happiness to give Hazel hers?" She took in a deep breath, her eyes closing to slits, then said, "I know the perfect place to go. No one would ever follow us, and no one would ever find us. The Claws, the Watchers, nobody."

With a peculiar churn of dread in his stomach, Declan asked, "Where?"

And Twist said, "To the mountains."

* * *

><p><strong>Da daaaaa!<strong>

**I've been waiting for this chapter. FINALLY. SCENERY CHANGE. I get so tired of writing the Warren. It's all so...blah. I mean, I have a really good picture of it in my head or whatever, but I don't particularly want to write it a lot. **

**And now I'll probably do some split-screen writing: some in the mountains and some in the Warren. **

**Ooh, we can have a vote. Out of the cats in the Warren currently, who do you want to see the POV of? **

**Also, what should I put for the picture for Float, now that we can apparently do that? Anyone wanna make a poster for it? I'll pay you in a Warriors oneshot of your choice, after I finish writing Tufted's, which is happening currently, as I just got my computer back from being repaired FINALLY. XD**

**I feel very refreshed writing this. Maybe I'll go write another chapter or something. Mmm~**

**Fanfiction is very recharging. XD**

**Anyway. **

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	22. Old and New

**I really should have written my essay for Nonfiction Workshop but when I opened up the document, this came out instead. OOPS.**

**Cinderstar377 - Done and done! Look how quick that update was, too. I am good. XD This chapter should clear up that little mess! :D**

**justsmile77 - Haha, that's a good metaphor, but a very guilty-making one. I really do try to update when I can, but I'm really busy these days. Lots of homework. Blurrrgh. **

**RowebotRowe - Sorry for the lateish updates, but this is the best I can do. I used to be really super good at updating but school's getting harder and I have a lot of extensive homework to do. I'm trying to organize a special updating schedule, though, so it'll get a little more regular! **

**monkeyCsaw - Waaah~! Concrit! I LOVE IT. Seriously, everybody seems kind of shy about giving me concrit but I really, really want some. And you're right, that chapter was too rushed. I wrote it in two big chunks a month apart, which was the problem, I think. XD I might go back and edit it up a bit another day when I have a bit of free time, but until then, it has to remain a bit suckalicious. Hopefully this one is better! XD**

**Okay.**

**Onto the story~**

* * *

><p>Hazel sat in a small coil, still unsure of what she was doing in Lucky's den, especially not so early in the morning.<p>

She'd been here before, of course. Twice, in fact. Once when she and Streak had managed to topple an entire row of box-nests by themselves—Kite was so furious that she actually hissed. And once when he'd scolded her about Kale.

Kale. The thought went through her like a spear of ice. She hadn't seen him in so long. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him. All milk-pale fur and bright blue eyes, strong legs, long claws. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

And he could have been hers.

Hazel glared poisonously at Twist, who was at her side. She was talking to Lucky in soft, hushed tones. Declan was near her, his head bent close, his eyes concerned. Against the wall stood Viktor, with Lightfoot wearing a path in the floor as she stalked. Her fur was up along her back and her pale green eyes were sparking with annoyance.

Streak was at Hazel's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked, dipping his head to her level.

She looked away. He was as much a liar as the rest of them, even if he tried to pretend otherwise. "I'm fine."

Her tone stung him; she could tell. He winced away from her, making her heart ache.

_It's not you, _she thought. _I love you. It's everybody else. _

"Is someone going to explain what's happening?" Hazel asked loudly, cutting Twist off in mid-sentence. "Or do I get to go back to my prison yet?"

Twist looked livid at the interruption but Lucky was unruffled as ever. "We are discussing your future, young one," he said gently, coming over to stand in front of her. He was so tall that he blocked the weak sun coming in through the hole in the ceiling, making sharp shadows cut down his angular face. Hazel had always thought he was handsome in a very cold kind of way, like a cat carved of ice.

Hazel's anger flared. "Shouldn't I be a part of this conversation?"

"You are," Twist snapped. "You're just not listening." Declan looked at her then and her temper cooled. More calmly, she said, "We're going to move to the mountains."

Hazel gasped. "Who?"

"You. Me. Declan. The rest of the marked cats."

"That is not very many," Lucky said dubiously. "You would be very easy to attack."

"There are strong cats among the marked," Declan said. "Kaltag has proved himself to be a remarkable fighter. He would protect us with his life."

"Yes, but who else?" Lucky leaned back on his paws, his eyes skyward. "Shot. Felix. Slash and Petey. Cascade. Vega."

"Hazel," Twist said.

"I know." Lucky shook his head. "That is not very many cats. You will need more if you are to be safe. A group of the Sliders must accompany you."

Twist nodded along, her eyes wandering. Thinking hard, Hazel thought. She'd seen that expression on Twist's face enough to recognize it.

Hazel felt a brush of fur against her shoulder. "I'll go," Streak said, his voice strong. He didn't look down at her but he swallowed hard, his throat working. "I swore to protect Hazel with my life. I'll honor that promise."

Hazel's throat felt very dry. "You don't have to come. Your family is here."

Streak met her gaze then, his yellow eyes very bright. "My place is here, with you," he said softly, his words just for her. They were edged with a growl. "It always has been. In my whole life, it's only been with you."

Hazel couldn't speak. This was not a Streak she knew. She couldn't even recognize him.

Lucky said, "You've thought this through?"

Streak turned to him and nodded firmly. "My parents will understand. Duty before blood. That's how the Sliders are run."

"No," Lucky said quietly. "That is how it used to be. We are not the same anymore."

"I still stand by my word," Streak said, his claws sinking into the sandy ground.

Viktor chuckled, the sound like grinding rocks. "My youngest son is finally grown up. I'm proud of you, Streak."

Streak accepted his father's praise with a very dignified dip of his head.

_He has grown up, _Hazel thought, looking at him. She could still see the kit in his eyes, the playfulness there, but he was stronger now. Wider in his chest and his shoulders. _An adult, _she thought, shivering. Since when had Streak become this way? Or had he been like this the whole time and she'd just never noticed?

Lucky stepped back in one fluid motion to the pool of sunlight. He looked down at the way it flooded across his paws, smooth and rich and golden as honey. "Regardless," he said. "You will need others. I cannot bring myself to divide the Sliders entirely, you understand, nor is this in any way permanent. Once the threat of the Watchers and the Claws is over, you will return. The Sliders will be whole once more."

"We understand." Declan and Twist met eyes and another wordless conversation passed between them. Hazel watched with jealousy, thinking, _That is how I could have been with Kale._

"Then who?" Viktor asked. "Who will you send?"

"The strongest. Whoever will volunteer. And others, whom I will assign. Every cat will follow orders. We might not be the same Sliders as before but we are still Sliders. My cats will obey my word. It is their honor-bound duty. Come," he said, the final word stronger than the rest. "We will speak with them and tell them what is happening."

Twist and Declan followed at once, Viktor close behind. Lightfoot still looked wary, her eyes shifting around the entire den as if she were looking for enemies there. Hazel noted for the first time that the black-and-white she-cat had been entirely and unusually silent the entire conversation.

_Maybe she's got a lot on her mind. _Cutting the Sliders into sections was trying on any cat, even one as distant and aggressive as her. Hazel was very fond of Lightfoot, especially after she'd kept her word and kept silent about Hazel sneaking out. _She'll come around to the idea._

By the time Hazel reached the middle of the Warren, Lucky was already gathering the cats to him with booming peals of his dark voice. They came, as they always did. Loyalty ran in the Sliders like blood.

He explained the situation as only he could: minced and quick, leaving out no details, giving only the facts. Hazel watched him, drinking in the sight of him, knowing he wouldn't be her leader, not truly, after all of this.

"My friends," he said, concluding his speech. He worked his way back and forth on the machine-paw, his steps agitated. "We have reached a middle ground. Those of us who are marked _must _go to the mountains, but there is need for more. Cats who will protect their friends and kin with their lives. Fighters. Guardians. Warriors." His dark eyes flashed like distant lightning. His pacing stopped and he looked from face to face, lingering nowhere. "Which daring spirits will volunteer to accompany them?"

Not even a heartbeat went by before the first volunteer spoke up.

"I will." Hazel leaned out of the crowd to spot Adder step forward, his chest out, his head high. His sisters watched him go, fathomless emotion in their pale eyes. "I will go with them."

There was arrogance in his face as he joined Lucky at the base of the machine-paw, and he glanced over to catch Hazel's eye.

No, not Hazel's. Streak's.

_He thinks Streak's not going. _Hazel looked from Streak's face, his mouth hard and lined, to Adder's, wondering when the sibling rivalry had come into play.

"Adder, you will make a good addition to our mountain colony." Adder bowed slowly to Lucky, then walked to his side, staring out with hard blue eyes. "Who else?"

Adder looked at Whisper, his brow furrowed in confusion. Hazel watched, waiting for the strong she-cat to come forward, but she did not. Withdrawing back into the shelter of the Sliders, Whisper shook her head from side to side, swallowing hard. Adder looked bitterly disappointed but hid it well; just a gleam of hurt glazed his pale eyes.

Iggy limped forward. He'd hurt his shoulder in the great battle between the Sliders and the Claws, and the wound had never healed. "Lucky, I've spent my life guarding the gate to the Warren and wondering what life's like up in those mountains. I'd like to find out, if you'll let me. I might be old, but I'm still strong."

"Of course, Iggy."

Gravel prowled forward next. "If Twist is going, I'm going, too. She had my back in the Claws' base. I'll have hers in the mountains." He turned and looked over one gnarled shoulder. "River? Will you come with me?"

The red tom was standing next to his mate, Willow, whose belly was plump with unborn kits. Shame was in his raised fur and his averted eyes. "Gravel, my battle-brother, I would give anything to go along. But I have a mate now, and kits soon. I can't leave them. I'm sorry."

Gravel nodded in understanding, turning to Declan. "You'll be my new battle-brother. Even though you're kind of a wimp."

Declan, characteristically, just purred a laugh.

The black-furred brothers Ren and Pip came forward, followed closely and shockingly by Streak's sister Violet, who Hazel always thought was too soft for fighting. But when Violet pressed her shoulder against Ren's, close enough for their whiskers to touch, Hazel understood.

Kent refused to go along. "I've seen too many battles in my life. I'm tired of this fighting. And I'm tired of walking. I'll stay here and wait for you to return."

Viktor tried to volunteer but Kite held him back with a furious hiss, grabbing his ear between her teeth. As she dragged him back into the crowd, most of whom were standing in wary clumps, Hazel could hear her snarling, "…don't know what's gotten into you. You're too old to go to the mountains. Stars, I didn't know you were really so dense. Imagine what your mother would say. You already lost one eye, you stupid tom, you don't need to…"

"My ear, _my ear. _Stars, she-cat, that hurts. That _hurts_…"

Max and Marco seemed to be having some kind of furious silent argument, with Marco on the angrier side. His green eyes were cutting as Lightfoot's, which was startling. Max mouthed something that looked an awful lot like, "Do it for me," and Marco responded with something Hazel didn't understand but didn't look very friendly.

Max said, loudly enough for her to hear, "I'm doing it. You can't stop me." Then he turned to Lucky, ignoring Marco's furious hiss, and said, "I'm in. When do we leave?"

After a brief heartbeat in which Marco spat angrily beneath his breath, he stalked across the clearing after Max. He looked beside himself with rage. Max, on the other hand, was purring.

Lucky watched the two come up, his eyes carefully neutral, then looked at the cluster of cats. "Nineteen," he said. "Nineteen strong cats. But I wish for it to be an even twenty." His eyes fell on someone in the crowd, something in his gaze that made Hazel feel a pit of nervousness. "You will go with them. Lightfoot."

Hazel swiveled to look at Lightfoot, who was open-mouthed with transparent astonishment.

"You're kidding," Lightfoot said flatly, recovering a bit, but her eyes were still wide and very, very green. "You must be."

"I am not. It is my desire that you go with these cats to the mountains."

"B-but." Never in her entire life had Hazel ever heard Lightfoot misspeak. But here she was, horror in her eyes, in a way that Hazel didn't even think Lightfoot was capable of. "But you can't."

Lucky's ears pricked. "Sorry?"

Lightfoot said, angrily, "You can't do this to me. I'm…I'm _yours. _I'm your claws. I'm your will. You knew that from the very beginning. I devoted my _life _to you, Lucky. And now you send me away like an irksome kit? I've done nothing but serve you, as I promised—"

"Enough, Lightfoot." Lucky's voice stopped Lightfoot's voice immediately. "I have made my decision. Will you honor my order?"

Hazel looked over at Lightfoot, holding her breath.

Her jaw was working as if she were chewing, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lucky. The ground split under her kneading claws, breaking up from hard-packed dirt into soft crumbles of sand.

"I can't disobey," Lightfoot said softly, her head low below her shoulders. "I'll go."

Lucky nodded. "Good. That is twenty. I find that to be a good number." He looked around at the Sliders, who were still looking uneasily from one face to the other. "Are we agreed?"

Concurrence came in a muttering rumble of words, shapeless and indistinct.

Lucky broke the meeting with a few simple words, sliding forward to speak with the mountain-bound cats. Twist and Declan were foremost among them, their voices low and unintelligible at this distance.

Hazel looked up to Streak. "Your brother," she said. It was all she could think of to say. In all her life, she'd never been speechless in front of Streak and now it had happened twice in one day. Maybe she was out of practice talking to cats. It had been awhile since she'd spoken to anybody, even Streak. Especially Streak.

"I know." His eyes narrowed. It made him look harder, like his father. "I'm wondering about that."

"But he knows you're coming."

"He does now," Streak growled, and moved forward up to the group, leaving Hazel to scurry along behind him.

The entire group was talking at once, over each other, sliding between each others' words like snakes crawling over rocks. Lightfoot's voice was the loudest, the harshest. She growled her words, snarling them out with venom. Every so often, her eyes would go to Lucky, who was at the head of the group, and Hazel could see the detestation growing in her vivid green gaze.

"A leader must be selected," Lucky was saying. At once, his eyes went to Twist, who reacted to this motion with visible alarm. "It was your idea. You should be the one to lead them."

"I'm no leader," Twist said at once. "I couldn't—I mean, I can't. I can't do it, Lucky."

"You have to be the guide. No cat knows the mountains like you do."

But Twist shook her head again. "I'm sorry."

Lucky's expression grew more frustrated. His tail flicked behind him in one sweeping jerk. "I see," he said, but it didn't sound like he saw at all. "Then we will need another cat."

Hazel watched Twist, who was staring firmly at the ground. _You back down now but you haven't before, _she thought. _Why won't you be the one to step up and lead? _

Twist's eyes darted to the side, zeroing in on Hazel as if she'd heard her thoughts. Hazel looked back fearlessly. She wasn't afraid of Twist. Not anymore. And she would show it.

"Then whom?" Lucky turned to Gravel. "What about you?"

"I'll do it, Lucky," Adder said.

"You are far too young for that responsibility," Lucky said to him, not unkindly. "You will be a protector of these cats, but not their leader."

"I can do it," Adder said, taking a step forward. "Please let me try."

"He said no already," Lightfoot snapped. "Don't make him tell you again."

_ Why doesn't she lead us? _Hazel thought, watching Lightfoot level a glare at the young gray tabby.

Lightfoot curled back her lips and bared her fangs at Adder until he slinked away back behind Violet, sulking like a kit. Lightfoot lifted her chin proudly, her pale eyes dark with malice.

_Uh, on second thought, maybe that's not the best idea. _

"We're not leaders, Lucky," Gravel said in his rough voice. He shook his grizzled head. "That's the problem. We don't know what to do."

Lucky said, "I understand. And you do not know how much I wish I could accompany you. Or if Viktor could go with him."

"That's not likely to happen." Marco cocked a black ear towards where Viktor and Kite were still arguing. "He's pretty tied down here."

"I have a vote," Max said, speaking up in his soft voice. All eyes turned to him, which made him shrink back, almost into Marco's flank.

"Yes?" Lucky asked.

Sparing a glance around at the group nervously, Max said, "One of us wouldn't volunteer for this job but should be picked. I'd like to cast a vote, if I could. For you, Declan."

Declan's ears went up. "Me?" He sounded astonished.

Max nodded. "You were the one who took the initiative to go after Twist back when the Claws stole her. And it was you who worked your way into their ranks and betrayed them to us. And you fought hardest against the Claws in the battle."

"That's true," Kaltag said. "You saved me from them. You turned me back to the light when I was gone. I owe you my life. I told you that before."

Declan looked flustered, his pelt fluffing up around his shoulders. "Yes, but—"

"Why shouldn't it be you?" Gravel muttered. "You're brave. You're loyal. You're not uptight or crazy like the rest of these cats."

Lightfoot gave him a darkly amused glance.

Thoughtfully, Lucky nodded. "You would make a good leader, Declan. I approve of this. You will be the leader and Twist can be the navigator of this trip."

"I…I…" Declan was speechless. Bowing his head quickly, so hastily that he nearly bumped his chin into his chest, he said, "I'd be honored. I'll do my best."

"Good." Lucky padded back a bit, turning around to face them as a whole. "Although we part for now, we will still be a single unit. One beating heart. Do not fear that you will be forgotten. As soon as this storm passes, we will come and return you to us, and we shall be together again. Be strong, my friends. Take courage. Protect each other. Stay alive. And above all, do not forget that you are leaving behind cats who cherish you. We will be with you every step of the way, until the day comes when you return back to us." And then Lucky himself bowed to them, low and regal. "May the wind carry you back home soon, my dear friends."

XXXXXXXX

They left at midnight.

Hazel's blood was charged with energy. Twist had insisted she sleep during the afternoon to build up her strength and she'd obeyed, but only in spirit. She'd laid awake all day, dreaming of the mountains, of the freedom there. The wind in her whiskers, the ice at her back. The smell of stone surging through the air, singing into her veins. It would be magical.

There was only one speck of imperfection in that image.

_Kale. _She closed her eyes, imagining his scent, low and woodsy.

It would be impossible to see him again after this. Not until she came back, after this danger was gone. After the storm had passed, as Lucky said.

Who knew if he even still loved her? It had been so long since she'd seen his face, those beautiful eyes. She'd pressed his image into her heart, into her bones, and she would carry it with her until she died.

The group met at the gate. Each cat was restless, their tails flicking, their fur spiking along their spines. Hazel met eyes with most of them, the ones like herself: marked. The pure white tom Shot; Felix the short gray tabby; Slash and Petey, the dark brindled brothers with white paws; Vega, a pretty orange she-cat with bright blue-and-green eyes; and Cascade, whose silver-furred and mixed-eyed beauty was matched only by Lightfoot's.

Streak was standing with his siblings, saying their goodbyes to Whisper.

"Come with us," Violet was saying, begging her sister. "Don't stay behind."

But Whisper scoffed, tossing her head. "Like I want to go to the mountains," she spat. "It's stupid. You all can go ahead and fall down the side if you like. I'm staying here, where it's safe. Mother and Father won't have to worry about me if I die in the mountains!"

_She's afraid, _Hazel realized. She'd thought Whisper wasn't afraid of anything. But there was no denying the bright smell of fear coming from her white pelt.

Violet pressed her nose to her sister's cheek; Whisper wouldn't meet her eyes. "We'll see you again soon, Whisper." Streak did the same but Adder held back, unmoving. His eyes were fathomless as he watched his sister. Then he just turned and walked away, back to where Gravel was standing.

Viktor and Lucky were talking to Declan about plans and plans and plans. Hazel would hear about them so much later that she didn't even listen. Her paws drifted of their own accord to the gate, the smell of fresh greenness growing stronger in her nostrils.

The outside was a beautiful, shimmering garden of stars. Water hung heavily on every blade of grass, reflecting the pale glow of the half-moon, making the ground seem alive with light. Her eyes caught on all of it, watching the shivering of the falling leaves, the trembling of the long-stemmed grass, the quick beats of a raven's fleeing wing. Every sound and every smell and every sight was new to her, and she drank it in.

She heard pawsteps behind her, familiar as her own heartbeat. "This is my first time outside that I've been allowed," she said.

"I know," said Streak, his voice muted.

She turned to look at him. His white fur was as bright as those stars, with just the brown bands on his tail standing out as any color. He was watching her, low light reflecting in his yellow eyes.

"You sound sad," she said.

He stepped up to her lightly, his paws making no sound. Sitting down beside her with a sigh, tipping his head back to look at the sky, he said, "I'm not sad. I'm happy."

"Why?" she asked teasingly, trying to cheer him up. "Ready to be free of Whisper?"

But Streak didn't laugh for once. He turned his head to the side, watching her. "You're going to be free up there, Hazel. I'm happy about that."

That stopped her. Her heart began to beat very quickly in her chest, like the time she'd nearly fallen off the top of the box-nest and nearly landed on her neck. Only then it hadn't been serious: Streak had been there to catch her.

This time, it felt like Streak was doing the pushing.

Nervously now—she never felt nervous around Streak—she said, "I don't know about free. I'll probably have to stay on the ground. They won't let me go climbing all over the rocks."

Streak laughed, finally a familiar sound, and reached out with one paw, cuffing her softly over the head. Ruffling her head fur, he said, "No, they probably won't let you sprout wings either, Patch."

Hazel thought, _It's been so long since you've called me that. _"Well, if I do, I expect you to sprout wings and follow me, Catch."

Streak made a soft sound in the back of his throat, almost a hum. "I'll see what I can do about that."

Twist came up behind them, clearing her throat significantly. "Hazel, I'd like to talk to you." Her eyes went to Streak, without any heat. "Alone."

Streak said, "I'll meet up with you later, Hazel." He got to his paws and went to Iggy's side, dipping his head to speak quietly with the older tom.

Hazel turned a sour eye on Twist. "What do _you _want?"

"There's no need for that." Twist's voice was all business, finally not the ginger tone she'd been using for the past few days of Hazel's imprisonment. It was a relief, but Hazel certainly wasn't going to show that. "You're getting something you want. You'll be free up there, you know."

"Maybe," Hazel said indifferently, scratching her ear with a hind paw. "Is that all you wanted to say? Don't you have important things to attend to?"

"Right now my priority is you. I have a surprise for you. Unless you don't want it."

That pricked Hazel's ears. Twist could have gone on a rampaging tirade for an entire moon cycle and Hazel would still be interested in a surprise. "Like what?"

"That's the surprise part, flea-brain." She reached out and poked Hazel with her nose to take the sting out of her words. "Coming?"

What really did she have to lose? There was nothing at this point that would surprise Hazel anymore.

She stood and shook off the clinging dead grass from her fur. "Sure," she said breezily. "Let's get this over with."

To her surprise, Twist led her off into the woods. The midnight moonlight lit the way, just barely enough for Hazel to see. She sprang between tufts of grass, her legs too short to keep up easily with Twist, who was striding easily across the ground.

It was damper here, her paws sinking into the mud. It squished up between her toes, staining her white fur brown.

She groaned in disgust, shaking out each foot. "Twist, wait!" she called, stopping to tug a thorn out from between her toes. It stung like a bee, smarting even after she'd removed it and cast it aside.

The motion swung her head sideways, and she caught a glance of something far off in the woods. A shining something, like a luminescent snake.

She froze. _I know this place. _

"Twist?" she asked. "Where are we going?"

Twist had turned back around and stopped in front of her. She didn't say a word. Her eyes reflected the moon just as Streak's had. "Come on," was all she said, turning back around and springing away.

Heart beating quickly, her pain forgotten, Hazel followed as fast as she could.

The brook rose up out of the ground ahead of them: that glowing Hazel had seen earlier. She didn't even need Twist's guidance to find the steppingstones. With quick, deft hops, she leapt across the brook, flying on ahead on winged paws, her breath tight as a knot in her chest.

Twist's paws rang out behind her so Hazel knew she was safe. Twist wouldn't let anything happen to her.

The cliff face was a ghost in the darkness, pale as bleached sand.

Hazel didn't go into it. She knew where he would be.

She turned to Twist. "Stay here."

And for once, Twist didn't argue. She sat in the middle of the path, her ears alert. "I'll wait for you."

Hazel nodded, her heart leaping within her.

The secret place's pathway was hidden behind a wedge in the rock. Hazel scooted into it, fitting easily with her small size. It had been more difficult for him, with his wide shoulders, to make it through.

The tumbled shelf of rocks was laid out in front of her, as easily accessible as the steppingstones had been. Clawing a firm grip, Hazel began to climb, twisting in on herself like a flying bird, each step bringing her closer and closer to the stars.

She reached the top with a heaving gasp, as if she'd been underwater for a long time.

The grass was as long and luxurious as she remembered, as silky against her flanks as rabbit's fur. The pathway was still here, still warm and strong-smelling. Hazel paused and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of him. It was just as it was in her dreams: warm and woodsy and beautiful.

The path snarled and twisted in on itself like an adder. It was direct, though: no off-shoots or blank paths. Simple and clean, one beautiful spiral.

_Stars, _she thought as she raced along it. _I can't believe it. I can't believe this. He's going to be here. I'm going to see him. I'll see his face. I'll tell him I love him. He already knows but I'll tell him again, a thousand times. Every day of our lives, I'll tell him, and he'll tell me. And we'll be together. _

She burst into the center clearing where they'd spent that night together, what felt like so long ago, her heart racing in her chest so quickly she was afraid it would burst from the strain.

"Kale?" she said, breathless.

She didn't spot him right away so she went to poke around. Surely he had to be here somewhere, just waiting for her. Maybe he'd heard her coming up the path and hidden himself away, just to mess with her. He would totally do that.

Even after the first search of the area, Hazel didn't give up. _He's just hiding really well, _she thought. _Or he's back in the caves. I really should have checked there first…_

She scurried back down the path and dove into the caves, wandering deeply into the throat, down to the place where Sundance had protected her against the Sliders.

It was completely empty. No nest material, no bones from kills, nothing.

Hazel stood in the empty space and stared. She didn't understand this. She didn't understand any of it. Where was he? Where was Kale?

She searched every tunnel, ignoring the shadows; they held no malice for her. She went into every room, poked her nose into every crevice.

Only once she'd swept the area did the awful truth begin to set in, the details pile up.

There was no scent here. A trace amount had been up in the secret place but her brain had made it seem like more. No tufts of fur lined the ground. The pawprints outside were stale and wind-blown, the edges worn smooth with time.

Hazel sat down in the path in front of the caves, still not understanding. She stared down at the ground, her vision wavering to black around the edges.

A weight pressed into her back and a familiar scent fell over her. There was a touch of warm breath brushed her neck as Twist bent her head close, nuzzling Hazel to her chest. "Hazel."

Hazel felt her eyes burn as she continued to stare, heedless of Twist's presence. "He's…he's not here. He left. He left me."

"Oh, Hazel," Twist said, so gently she didn't even sound like herself. "I am so sorry."

XXXXXXX

From across the brook, up on a grassy hill, he watched the two she-cats walk away. It felt like each step they took, a shard of ice stabbed more deeply into his heart. His eyes lingered on the tiny brown tabby, his breath coming more quickly in his throat.

Then a growly voice in his ear rumbled, "See how they leave. Just as I told you. Didn't I predict this? They're abandoning this place. And you."

"No," he said. "I wasn't there. She thinks _I_ left _her_. You're wrong."

"Yes. Look and watch them go. Do they look back? No. Not even once. She's abandoned you."

"She wouldn't. She—"

"She loves you?" The voice curved with amusement. "How quaint a thought. She surely couldn't love you. Not with her background. She was trained—she was _born—_to hate you. The Sliders burn that thought into their children's blood. They will always hate us, always persecute us. If they caught you on their land, you would be killed like prey. Any trace of affection she showed you was a lie to work you into their circle so they could kill you. You have a higher price on your head than any of us."

His jaw tightened. "I don't…I can't…"

"Kale," the voice said, curling into his ears like thorns. Poisonous as snake's venom. Soft as rabbit down. "Listen to me. I, who have never lied to you. I raised you. I allowed you your time away to be with your friends but you have chosen right in returning to me. In coming _home. _I will never lie to you, do you understand? You must trust me. I am your friend. You must take up revenge on her. Avenge your broken heart. Prove to her that what you felt was real, even if her side was an illusion. Can you do this for me, Kale? Are you strong enough? Did you love her enough to make it matter? Did you love her enough to prove to her that she can't just cast you away like an old chewed bone?"

Kale bowed his head, swallowing hard.

The cat moved closer, pressing right up against him. Hot, blood-scented breath touched his cheek, a show of a fresh meal or a fresh fight. Either could be likely. "I don't believe you did. I don't believe you loved her. I don't believe you would raise claws against her to prove it to me. To prove it to _yourself_. You care more about your perception of her than you do the cat herself. Look me in the face and tell me that's a lie."

Kale turned his head away.

"I don't think you can do it." But the cat was persistent. Touching his face gently with a forepaw, the cat said, pressing each word into his mind, "Prove. Me. _Wrong_."

Kale looked up at the cat's face, wanting to flinch away from the hatred burning there. But he didn't.

Feeling his heart harden inside his chest, like a withering apple, Kale said, "Yes, Sorrow. I understand."

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><p><strong>Waaaaaah~ <strong>

**I really like this chapter.**

**Mostly the fact that I have enough characters to split a group and still have a good number in each group.**

**That's a miracle for me, 'cause I generally do not have very many characters in my original stories. I'm trying so hard to be better, so hopefully it's getting better!**

**Also! I have a new oneshot! It's a LionxCinder hurt/comfort. I wrote it for Tufted, who was my 300th reviewer on Sidestep! (-collective yay-) I'll probably do something similar on this one, so if you're lucky number 300, you get a free oneshot written by ME! On anything you want, as long as it's a book/game/manga/movie I've read, obviously. **

**Also that offer still stands if anybody wants to draw me a cover for this story. I don't know how to draw so I have a Wolf's Rain picture there now, and that's totally unmatching. I'll write ya a oneshot if you draw me a thing! Pinky-swear! XD**

**Anyway, that's enough drivel, don't you think?**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	23. Ice and Fire

**GUYS GUYS GUYS. I GOT A NEW JOB. **

**This is super duper exciting, and it's at a theme park! -cue fanfare here- I get to help people onto roller coasters and stuffs and it's gonna be AWESOME.**

**On a sidenote, I do feel bad for not updating. I've had a lot of work piling up recently. I promise that this will make up for it, though! :D**

**I don't have enough time to do the reviewer reply thingies, so we'll skip that today. I have to go to bed early for church tomorrow. XD**

**Onto the story~**

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><p>"I'm freezing," Hazel said, curving her shoulders inward, her breath a puff of white in her face. "I hate this cold." She'd never been so cold in her life before. It wasn't even fully the cold-season yet and it was this cold. She couldn't even imagine what the coming moon cycles would be like.<p>

From ahead, through the slanted light flurries of snow, she heard Twist's voice coast back to her, "Welcome to the mountains." Her tone was as cold as the air. "Better get used to it. It'll only get worse from here on out."

Hazel muttered something beneath her breath on what was worse than the cold but Twist didn't seem to hear her.

The mountains were nothing she'd seen before. They soared above her head, massively high. The crests disappeared into the bank of fog rolling above, too close to be clouds. The ground beneath her pads was rough and stony, splintered through with tens of thousands of cracks, some as thin as a single hair, some so massive she had to leap over them.

And all the while, marching through this storm, she thought to herself, _This is freedom. _This awful, beautiful mountain was her new home, her new prison. It was fierce and cold as Lightfoot's eyes. A wildness she'd never experienced before.

Hazel shivered again, staring up into the whiteout-invisible peaks. _This is home now._

They'd been traveling for several days. The ache of travel had long set into her paws. Her pads felt battered and bruised; every step was a dull pang of pain. But despite all that, the surge of excitement in her chest, that wavering flame, had never died down.

The mountains may be a prison but they were _her _prison. Her freedom. A gift and a curse. A blessing disguised as a punishment. Hazel could barely keep from yowling with joy.

Of course she wouldn't let that show to Twist—Twist, who toed the line between love and hate so closely within Hazel's mind. Twist, the voice in the back of Hazel's mind, the same cat who had forbidden her from seeing Kale and then led her directly to his den.

Hazel watched Twist now, suspicious and curious. The mountains had lent her a kind of strange grace. Her shoulders were curved against the teeth of the storm, her eyes narrowed, her ears flat behind her. Ice had collected on her whiskers, bending them against her cheeks. The snow settled on her pelt turned it a smudgy gray color, matching her dark pelt to the stone of the mountains. Every movement was smooth and controlled, her light stalking step perfect for this place.

Hazel knew that Twist had been born in the mountains. She'd grown up there, learning and living. But something had happened with her father, a dark twisted cat who still haunted her, and she'd come to the Warren. Between the war and finding Declan, she'd become a different cat, someone warmer.

_The mountains suit her, _Hazel thought. Twist would deny it—she'd deny any truth, of course—but it was true. She was meant for this land, not the soft greenness of the Warren.

"A while longer," Declan called out, his voice torn by the wind. "We'll rest soon."

The rest of the group, a ragtag pack of marked misfits, nodded wearily along. Kaltag's golden fur was white with frost. Iggy, who had kept up like a trouper, was walking very stiffly, as if his joints hurt, and his teeth were clattering together. Even Adder, who had been at the head of the group the entire time, looked on with dull, exhausted eyes.

Cascade, walking alongside Hazel, muttered, "If we don't settle soon, we're going to have some bodies on our paws."

Panic jolted through Hazel's chest. "What?"

"Look around us. It's nothing but storms from here on out. We're going to need to find some warmth and ride out this snowstorm." She shivered with a ripple of her beautiful silver pelt. "I already feel half-frozen. This was a terrible idea, coming up this far. Lucky just wanted us to die to save himself some trouble from the Claws."

Hazel's mouth dropped open.

Before she could say anything, Vega came to her rescue. "Stop that," she scolded, her lips rolled back away from her teeth. "You're scaring her."

Cascade simply shrugged off the smaller she-cat. "Don't try to deny it. You know Lucky's relieved that we're gone."

"Lucky's worried for us, like the rest of the Sliders." It took a lot to work Vega up but Cascade had done the job; her orange fur was fluffed up. She looked like a flame caught in the snow.

Cascade said blithely, "That's not what I think. I think the Sliders are glad that they've turned us out."

"Then you're as stupid as you look," Vega spat.

Cascade bared her teeth. Her hackles raised, she hissed, "Don't forget that I was captured by the Claws, Vega. As were you. Do you remember all those times Lucky sent cats to retrieve us after we were kidnapped and kept and beaten and terrified and nearly killed? Right. Me either."

Vega growled.

Before anything could happen, Declan had doubled back. Pushing his way between them, he said, "Stop this! We can't start fighting among each other. We're all Sliders, remember?"

Cascade shoved him aside. "Don't bother with your pity-party, outsider. Just because you became Lucky's favorite all of a sudden doesn't mean the rest of us have to play along. I for one don't exactly believe you when you say you're alright."

If it were Twist, Cascade would have had sliced ears. But since this was Declan, she only got a patient sigh. "Would you like to explain, Cascade?"

The entire group had stopped now, forming a loose circle. Hazel pressed in close to Streak on her other side, taking comfort from the soft warmth of his shoulder against hers. She must have looked nervous, because he dipped his head and gently nuzzled her between the ears; flushed with sudden nerves, she scooted a bit more away, unsure of why she did it until she'd already moved.

Cascade in the center looked just like a windstorm. The storm caught her fur and threw it in streaks across her mismatched eyes, outlining her furious face in beautiful lines. Her tail, bourn by the wind, twisted and writhed like a serpent.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," she spat. Whirling around, trying to find an ally, she added, "Most of you were with the Claws, weren't you? Didn't you undergo the smoke treatment? Didn't you see Declan do the Claws' dirty work beneath its influence?"

Hazel, incredulous, looked at Declan, who was utterly and eerily impassive.

Kaltag, she noticed distantly, dropped his gaze and looked away. Twist slowly closed her eyes and kept them shut.

Cascade, taking this as acceptance, went on savagely. "I was so lost within it that I thought the Claws were right but I never lost myself. I never went along with them. I never bloodied my claws for the sake of their growing numbers—"

"What are you trying to imply, Cascade?" Declan asked calmly. His tone was the exact same one he used when putting up with Hazel's dozens of peppering questions or when he was listening to Lucky give out the hunting schedule. Like this wasn't what it was.

"I don't think you're fit to be our leader. Not if smoke still does to you what it still does to me."

To Hazel's astonishment, Lightfoot spoke up. "There's hardly going to be smoke in the mountains, you daft—"

"Lightfoot," Declan said.

Lightfoot stopped.

Taking in a deep breath, Declan said, "I understand your concern, Cascade. You're not wrong. Smoke still affects me. It affects all of us. But," he went on, and a bit of steel came into his eyes. "I would never allow that to get in the way of the cats beneath my care. That includes you. So if you're ever in doubt of my leadership abilities, I encourage you to speak to me—privately. All you've done now is waste our fading daylight and frighten every cat in this group. These are your friends, Cascade. Your family. Don't go making enemies before our journey has even ended." Declan swallowed hard, looking very vulnerable in the action, and Hazel realized Cascade's words must have hurt him far more than he was showing. "Does anybody else have anything to add before we continue walking?"

The group shook their heads. Some glared openly at Cascade, like Adder and Vega. Others had fallen into whispers and darting glances, looking from Declan to Cascade to Twist, who had immediately fallen back into step with Declan and twined her tail with his. Kaltag still had his eyes on his paws, and such a look of self-disgust on his face that Hazel looked away.

It was silent for the rest of the journey, just the shush of the wind through fur and the soft coughing of ice-dried throats.

_Nobody told me about Declan, _Hazel thought, watching her numb paws climb the uneven ground. She knew that he and Twist had been captured but not—not any of the rest of that. How had Declan bloodied his paws for the Claws, the Sliders' enemy? Had he really lost himself to their methods?

_ Smoke treatment. _She didn't know what that was but it must have been terrible, some fresh nightmare. Only something like that could have ever turned Declan away from the cats he loved.

The night rolled down the mountains slowly, steadily, like dark poison, sinking the group into silence.

Hazel, who was not and had never been afraid of the dark, felt an eeriness creep into her heart. Paranoia. It clung to the inside of her mind, making her look over her shoulder half a dozen times, even though she knew the only things behind her were the soft steps of Ren and Violet. Violet looked dead on her paws, leaning heavily into Ren's ice-crusted black shoulder.

_Kale's sky-beautiful eyes gleamed at her, aching with agony. "__I love you. Until the end of all my days and nights, I love you. Until the last beat of my heart."_

She clenched her teeth shut tight, painfully tight, to keep herself from crying aloud at the pain of the memory.

Streak touched her shoulder gently; she leaned into the touch without even thinking about it. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

Hazel knew better than to lie to him. She remembered their promise, back from so long ago it took effort to think of it. Shaking her head, she said, "No. I'm not."

With a bit of an edge in his voice, he said, "If it's about Cascade, I—"

"It's not," Hazel said, cutting him off. Sparing one glancing look up at his face, which was furrowed with concern, she said, "Just leave it, Catch. It's fine."

Streak didn't leave it. "Is this about that Claw tom? Kade?"

"Kale," she corrected, feeling his name ache in her throat like a bone caught there. She cleared her throat. "His name's Kale."

With a sound of reassurance, Streak said, "The mountains will heal you, Hazel. Distance will. You'll recover from this."

"_This," _she thought without amusement. _As if I can recover from this. From a broken heart. _She'd heard cats in the Sliders talking about broken hearts but she'd never imagined the truth in the adage. Her heart felt like it was cleft in half, like there was a blackthorn caught among the web of muscle. Each beat of it sent spinning threads of pain through her body, making her muscles and lungs just _ache. _

Her eyes closed. _Kale, where are you? Why weren't you there, waiting for me like you promised? _

So lost in her thoughts, in the image of his face, that she nearly collided with Slash's hindquarters. He turned around and said, "Watch it," but Hazel couldn't feel the heat of his words.

Declan was speaking, his voice barely carrying over the howl of the wind. "We'll stay here for the night. If anybody wants to go out and try to hunt, go in pairs. Don't go alone. We're still unfamiliar with these mountains. It's dangerous."

Hazel couldn't think of something she'd rather do less than hunt. Padding on heavy paws, she pushed past the clump of older cats and towards the sound of Declan's voice.

He was speaking with Twist in that soft, gentle voice he only used for her, but he broke away when Hazel approached. "How are you holding up, Hazel?" he asked, dipping his head to brush his muzzle against her cheek. His breath melted the ice on her whiskers.

Assuming he meant physically, she said, "I'm fine."

Twist approached. She sniffed Hazel's paws where they were angry red and swollen. "You need to rest."

Hazel shot her a sharp look. "Everybody needs to rest. Not just me. Don't treat me like I'm weak because I'm _not."_

Twist, surprisingly, didn't roll her eyes or look annoyed. "You're right," she said. "You and Streak can go out and look for bedding if you can. Moss in the mountains mostly clings to the side of the rocks that doesn't face the Warren. Bring back as much as you can. I'll send out some cats to look for more."

Hazel blinked, caught off guard. She'd been hoping for something normal, for an argument or another battle with Twist, but she hadn't gotten that. Staring at Twist as if she were a stranger, Hazel said, "O-okay. I can do that."

Twist nodded curtly and turned away, giving out another order to Max and Marco, who listened in with keen, forward ears.

Hazel watched for a moment longer, still not sure if she liked this shift in Twist or not, before turning away to find Streak.

They wandered away down another path that was narrow and pebbly. It felt uneven beneath Hazel's paws, which made her sluggish, fragmented heart beat a little faster.

Streak didn't mind that she didn't keep up her side of his easy chatter. The tone of his voice didn't change from his soothing, cheerful lilt but she could tell he knew she had tuned out. It was hard to focus on things for longer than a few heartbeats these days anyway. Streak, who knew her better than she knew herself, understood that.

Ripping a strip of the strange rubbery moss from the side of a rock, Hazel thought about Streak some more. Ever since that day when she'd been torn from Kale, he'd been acting different. Atypical from his normal goofy easiness. He was polite but distant, and hesitant in a way she hadn't ever imagined he could be. Like he was a different cat. Like he was a stranger. Not her Streak.

The moss went in the pile and she headed back to collect more. Surreptitiously, she watched him from behind the low slanted rock.

He had his paws braced against the rock as he pulled, the muscles in his back straining with the effort. The tendons in his jaw stuck out through his white fur, which was spinning in the dying light with a thousand colors from the ice. He noticed her watching and light came into his eyes, brilliant like the sun.

_He's worried about me, _she knew. As any cat would be. She'd been a shadow since that day in the Claws' old territory.

Streak dropped his mouthful of moss and turned to her. "Patch? You're staring."

"Oh." Hazel blinked several times, shaking her head to clear it of her cluttering thoughts. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." He came across the way to her, stopping a few paces away—further than he used to. She ached for him to close the distance and comfort her with his scent and the warmth of his familiar fur. "I like seeing you watching something. Especially me."

He waited for her to laugh so she indulged him. Her chuckle felt half-hearted and flat even to her.

"Hazel," he said again, taking one more step closer. "I'm worried about you."

"I know," she said quietly. The wind had died down, leaving nothing hidden in her voice. "I know you are, Catch."

Streak's expression was hesitant, little flashes of something else fleeting across his face. "You're so… I mean, stars, Hazel, I don't know how to help you. I'm trying the best that I can, but I know that I—"

"Stop," she said. "You're not doing anything wrong. It's me. This is me. You can't help me."

"Yes I can," he said. Another step forward. Now she could see the gleam of new moonlight on his whiskers, the reflection of her small face in his yellow eyes. "I can. If you'd let me."

Confusion misted her mind. "I don't know what—"

"You have to let him go." Streak said it very simply, as if it wasn't anything at all, as if what he was saying wasn't impossible.

At once, Hazel was angry. She felt it light her blood with fire. "You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed. "I can't just stop it. Nobody can do that."

"Hazel—"

"Stop that! Stop saying my name like I'm a kit because I'm _not. _I love him!" she snarled, heat blooming up into her throat like rising water. "I love him, Streak. And I'd be a traitor to that if I ever gave him up."

Streak's ears went flat, which startled Hazel so much that her anger burned out like a caught pine needle. "You don't understand that this is killing you! Don't you know how hard it is to stand by and watch you fade like this, knowing that nothing will change? This is as bad as when you were trapped in the Warren. I thought that by coming out here, leaving all that behind, that you would…" His jaws clamped shut suddenly, his eyes widening.

"Would what?" She couldn't leave that alone now, not now that he'd opened a vein and left it to bleed. "Would forget him? Would just leave him behind?"

"He left _you_ behind," Streak reminded her quietly, his expression back to that strangeness again, that shifting, nebulous look. "He abandoned you."

Hazel's heart stopped. "He…he didn't. He didn't do that. He'd never… He'd never do that to me."

But now Streak had done it. The words felt different coming from him instead of Twist, who had gently told her the same thing countless times, each in different levels of firmness.

Streak's words made them solid, made them real.

And they hurt as if he'd struck her with unsheathed claws.

Hazel dropped into a sitting position, her shoulders slumped, her eyes wandering the blank stone path in front of her, watching the snow collect in the pockets of rock. "He didn't," she said, her voice breaking. "There has to be…some mistake. I—" She couldn't go on. Bending her head, trying to force words past the lump in her throat, she devolved into breathless, painful gasping.

Streak's warmth dropped over her like a blanket as he pulled her to him, letting her rest her cheek in the thick white fur of his chest. Hazel closed her eyes, breathing out a ragged sigh, feeling her fractured heart thud along ungracefully in her chest, its pace too slow to keep the dizzying sense of loss from making her head spin.

Hazel shivered on the cold ground, her eyes still staring at the bare ground, imagining Kale's face the way she always did, with his beautiful eyes lit up and his mouth quirked the way it did when she talked to him.

_He abandoned you. _

She felt no malice towards Streak. He knew the only way to reach her was with forthrightness—that was always how they'd worked. It was why they had been best friends for so long, so close that they were like one spirit in two bodies.

Hazel breathed in deep the scent of his fur and tried not to think. It was easier to push back the pain when he was around.

"Hazel," he said, her voice cradled very gently in his voice, like a secret. It rumbled through his chest beneath her ear.

She knew what he was trying to say, now without words. _Let him go. _It was what everybody had been telling her for a moon cycle.

_Let him go._

_But…_

But she _couldn't_ let go of Kale. She couldn't. No matter what had happened in the past, or the present, or in the future. She couldn't forget him. Her heart was tethered to his irretrievably. Nothing could break that bond.

Streak was holding very still now but his heart had picked up, beating erratically in his chest. "I… There's something I want to tell you, Hazel."

She drew back away from him, looking up at his face. The moon framed his ears, lending a silvery gilt to the angles of his face. "Okay," she said, her voice sounding a bit thin.

His throat worked, the way it did when he spoke to Lucky or his father. Streak, who never looked nervous around her, was uneasy.

Streak took in a deep breath, looking like he was working over something very hard in his head. "Patch. Hazel. I—"

Something rang out in the distance.

Hazel broke away from him, her ears erect. "Did you hear that?"

Streak, who she'd cut off in mid-sentence, looked startled. "N-no," he said, now sounding like himself again. Back to steady, reliable Streak. "I—Hazel, wait!"

But she was already gone, hurtling down the side of the mountain towards the sound, her heart tight in her throat. _Please, please, please, _she thought, her eyes streaming from the intensity of the cold. _Please don't let this be a dream._

Her last race towards a hopeless dream had left her shattered.

She prayed with everything in her that this wouldn't be the same.

Streak's shouts behind her were distant as crow-calls. She could barely register him. Every nerve in her body was aching for this moment.

She burst out into a pocket of empty space, just on the edge of the mountain. Below, the fading orange-and-red of the forest glowed like embers in the moonlight, silvery and beautiful. A stream worked its way steadily down the mountain like a vein of crystal.

She whirled around, looking for _him_, because it had been _his _voice. She would recognize it anywhere.

"Kale," she breathed, her lungs empty from her run. "Kale."

Streak, wheezing and cursing from the loose stones, came clattering into view. His pelt was ruffled up from the wind and fresh ice was on his face, turning his fur into spikes. "Hazel, what in the name of the stars are you doing? You could have died!"

Hazel was looking around wildly, scenting the air, trying to find him. "Kale!_ Kale!"_

"He's not here! He's not here, Hazel!"

She ignored him. "Kale! Kale, where are you? I'm here!"

Hazel turned around, ready to search along the ridge for clues, when Streak stepped in front of her.

"He's not here," he said again, angrily, his voice a growl. It stopped her dead, making her heart catch in her chest. "You're imagining it."

"No."

"_Yes," _he said, pressing into the word. "You can't run off every time you think you hear him. He's not coming for you."

"He will," she said desperately. "Get out of my way, Streak." She tried to dodge around him but he stopped her again, his head bowed, his shoulders curving down like he was hurting.

When he looked back up at her, his yellow eyes were full of pain. "You don't see it," he whispered. "Don't you understand what this is _doing _to you? Please, Hazel. I'm _begging _you to stop this. I'll do whatever you want, if you'll just come back to me. I don't want to lose you. And every time you think about him, I can see it in your eyes that I am and that's _killing _me. Don't you get it? You're not the only one who's hurting. You're hurting everybody else."

"I don't care about everybody else," she said frantically. "Twist and Declan don't care about me. They have each other; they don't care if I'm hurting. The Sliders abandoned me to live in the mountains with the rest of the marked cats. And you—you're on my side. I know that. But—but I can't do anything. You don't understand."

He laughed then, a hopeless brittle sound. "I don't understand," he echoed.

"You don't." Clinging onto that, she said slowly, "I can't give up on him, Streak. I know I heard him. I know he's looking for me. And if I turned my back on him, I'd be just as bad as the Sliders."

"The Sliders didn't do anything but protect you, Hazel."

"They kept me here! They trapped me from having a real life. I could have…I could have been with Kale! I could have lived with him and loved him and stayed with him for the rest of my life because that's what I _wanted_."

"Don't pull the 'I never get what I want' strategy, Hazel," Streak said. "It's beneath you. And it's a lie."

Hazel straightened, feeling her blood beat hotly in her veins. It was deafening in her ears. "I can't give up on him," she said simply.

Streak bowed his head again. "I will do anything—anything—for you if you do. I can't bear it, Hazel. I can't bear to see you wasting away. It's going to kill me."

"I love him," Hazel said, frustrated that he wouldn't understand her.

His head snapped up and his eyes were a stranger's. "_I_ love _you_," he spat. "I've loved you almost since I first set eyes on you. Ever since I was appointed your guardian. Ever since the first time you called me Catch. And every time you said my name or laughed or followed along after me, I fell in love with you even more. Every time I watched you sneak off and kept your secret, I loved you. Don't you get it? Don't you _see? _I understand perfectly. I understand how you feel because that's how I've felt for nearly my entire life and you've never noticed. Not even once. And," he added bitterly at the end, a wry note of self-deprecation in his voice, "I've never said nobody cared about me because I _knew_ it was a lie."

Hazel couldn't even fathom any words. She stared at him, open-mouthed, hearing what he was saying but not believing it. These words couldn't come from her Streak, not her best friend. Not the steady, reliable tom she'd known her entire life.

There was nothing steady or reliable in Streak's face right now.

"I…" But she couldn't say anything to that. What could she possibly say? What could possibly make this right?

The bushes shook behind her, frightening Hazel so badly that every hair on her pelt stood on end.

Streak moved swiftly and fluidly. Stepping in front of her, pushing her behind him as if it were the easiest thing in the world, he called out, "Who's there?"

Hazel stared between his front legs, trembling with the very real fear now. She'd run into the wilderness alone. Twist had told her not to do that. A wave of images passed through her head, the stories Twist had told her about danger: falling and breaking and drowning and wild things with savage dripping teeth and crazed eyes.

Streak growled, crouching lower, curling his tail protectively around Hazel's body. And Hazel, despite her still-reeling mind, shrank into that contact.

But then she straightened just as rapidly when she saw the cause of the noise, every muscle and bone in her body turning into a puddle.

Streak let out a muted noise of surprise, just a simple, "Oh." Like the wind was kicked out of him.

"I'm sorry to frighten you." Kale had that quirk in his mouth again, his head to the side. Only rigid shock kept Hazel from flying to his side and pressing her body against his, soaking up his scent and warmth. "This might be sudden, but I'd like to join your group."

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><p><strong>I reaaaaaaaally liked writing this chapter. I'm pretty sure some of you guys won't like the content, though. XD<strong>

**Anyway, it's sleep time. I feel like such a granny going to bed at 10:30. I should get to sleep in till 2:30 every day. Someone should write a law about that.**

**I mean, with all the other laws passing in Congress today, this one doesn't seem so crazy. XD**

**Anyway,**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	24. Poison and Antidote

**Look how fast I updated! Woooo!**

**Now NaNoWriMo's coming up, so I dunno how quickly I can update again. Maybe once or twice more before the new month. God, I am the worst updater ever.**

**Sinora Saphire - Heehee! I really did love writing that scene. Dear Streaky is such fun to torture. XD **

**Justsmile77 - Such suspense! I will have much fun writing it. X3**

**RowebotRowe - Hee! Thanks! I wish I had more time to write this! I'm afraid it's gone on longer than I wanted it to but I'm winding it down now. The reins are back in my hands! XD**

**Charlie019 - He didn't really matter, just like Grace the kittypet and Ruby the Claw queen. He was only there to make the plot go onward. XD I imagine he's still annoying and fat and arrogant, sitting around lying in the shade somewhere. I threw him in there to see if anyone would notice his connection with my other fic but nobody did, so no harm done! XD**

**Viper 332 - Aah! It's like, mini-Float fanfiction! -shiny eyes- Do go on. It's very lovely. I can picture it all happening. X3**

**Alrighty. Onto the story~**

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><p>"Okay," Twist said, nodding to Gravel and Iggy, sinking her claws into the ragged face on the rock she was perched on. "You two find some more moss. I sent out others earlier but they haven't come back yet. Collect as much as you can carry and get back here."<p>

The two nodded and headed off down the mountainside to where things looked a bit greener. It wasn't very hard to accomplish that; the ground was an expanse of dreary gray, with pockets of snow clinging to every open space. The cold wind bit through her fur, which was still working up to cold-season-thickness. She shivered, pulling back a little.

It was easy to help Declan lead these cats, she realized. They were a perfect team. In looks and glances, they could communicate more than some cats could with words.

She watched him now. He was talking with Ren and Violet, his voice low and calm. As easygoing as ever, despite his surroundings. The fact that he could still cling to himself even in this harsh land was amazing. She felt her chest warm up a bit watching him.

But Cascade…

Twist turned a sharp gaze on her. The silver she-cat was working as dutifully as the others, but every so often she'd send Declan an outright suspicious look, complete with flattened ears and drawn-up lips.

It made anger start in Twist's belly.

_I'd like to see you go through what he did, _she thought, wishing she could burn a hole in Cascade's pretty ears with her glare alone. _He's been to the bottom and back again. You weren't anything to the Claws. Not even a guard. They just wanted you to produce more Claws._

Of course, it wouldn't be tactful to say it out loud. Out of everything she'd learned in the mountains, keeping to herself was one thing she remembered.

Her eyes closed as another shrill wind cut against her, pushing back her whiskers. Shelter. They had to find shelter, and quickly.

_ Somewhere further off the path, _she thought. It would be too easy for the Claws to find them here, or the Watchers. They were in plain sight. They had to get away from this easiness and into rougher territory. The mountains were a gaping mouth full of cavities; there had to be a hole or a patch of dirt to creep into and wait out the storm.

Declan broke away from his conversation and joined her, sitting down next to her. Twist on her rock was just at eye-level with him, which was a refreshing change. It was tiring to always crane back her head to look him in the face.

"They're off to hunt," he told her in his quiet voice. "I've sent Max and Marco, too. And Vega and Slash."

"Good." Twist nodded. "Mountain prey is hard to come by."

"An awful lot of birds," Declan said, looking unimpressed by the thought. "All those feathers."

Twist just shrugged. "It's good for bedding. Insulation."

"Unless they tickle your nose."

"Then just sneeze them away. Downy feathers are better anyway. On hawks, they're good. Owls are better. Crows are okay if we can find them, but mostly we'll just have—"

"Twist," Declan said, interrupting her. "Why are we talking about feathers?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Because _you _asked—"

"Something's on your mind. I can tell. And it's not feathers." He turned to face her head-on, his hind legs stuck out at a crooked angle. He put his head to the side, close enough that his breath warmed her muzzle. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "You're not yourself."

Twist felt surprise seize her insides. "N-nothing. I'm—" But she stopped. Declan had that patient look on his face again, that open friendliness. It was half of why she'd fallen in love with him. "I'm worried," she confessed, ducking her head below her shoulders. Now he was taller than her again. "I'm afraid we won't find shelter. I'm afraid that we'll be stuck out in the storm and freeze to death. And I don't want that for Hazel or for you."

"Or for the cats beneath our care," he reminded her levelly.

She nodded. Of course. Them, too. "We have to find shelter tonight. There's a storm coming."

She could feel it light static against her fur. She thought of her mother. Spirit's hurt paw could always tell when it was going to rain. Maybe it was inherited or maybe she was just crazy, but Twist thought she could sense the oncoming storm, too. It tightened her spine, made her knees weak. It filled her mouth with the taste of metal.

Declan purred softly, just the hint of the sound. Pressing his cheek up against hers, he said, "Don't worry, Twist. I'll take care of this."

_But you don't know how. I don't know how and I lived her. How could you possibly fix this? _

Twist tried to let herself be soothed. She closed her eyes, breathing in Declan's scent, letting it warm her from the inside out. That had always worked in the past. But nerves set her on edge.

A warning yowl sounded out through the howl of the wind. Twist broke away from Declan just in time to see Streak prowling forward, his eyes curiously blank, and his tail twitching and writhing behind him like an angry snake.

A split-second later, Twist realized why.

Kale padded into camp like he owned it, his head high, his tail gently waving. His ears were at a relaxed sideways set. With his cream fur, so pale he nearly blended in with the snow around him, he looked like a spirit coalesced from the mist.

And at his side, barely containing herself and looking far happier than Twist had seen her in ages, was Hazel.

She bounded right up to Twist, her marked eyes sparking with unbridled joy. "Twist, look," she said, turning around and ushering Kale forward. "Look. Look. Stars, look at him."

Twist straightened, staring down this kit coldly. Declan rippled to alertness, too, but he was the one who spoke first. "Hello, Kale. What are you doing here?"

Twist looked down her nose at Kale. The pale shadow of his tabby stripes were just a shade darker than the rest of his fur. He had white paws and a white tail-tip, and his chest looked as clean and white as a lily. The blue of his eyes was a very faint blue, with a rim of darker color around it, like a hemmed in snowstorm.

When he spoke, he was nothing but courteous. "Declan," he greeted, dipping his head low. "I've come to ask permission to join your group."

"No," Twist said at once. The rest of the group had clustered around curiously, some with raised hackles. Max and Marco, fresh from hunting, came running and dropped their kills at Declan's feet to get a better look at the newcomer.

"He smells like Claws." Marco's teeth were bared. "We should chase him off down the mountain back to the rest of his bloodthirsty kin."

Kale looked alarmed at that. "I-I'm not a Claw. I've renounced them. I've been kicked out of their group. They don't want me anymore."

"Why's that?" Twist asked, putting her head to the side. Keeping her voice very cool, she asked, "Because you've bewitched Hazel?"

Hazel was staring at Twist with outright loathing. Twist ignored her.

Kale looked down at his paws. "I know this seems bad," he said in a low voice. "But…Twist, I am in love with Hazel. I know that upsets you, and I don't wish for that. All I want is to be with her. This is the best way to do that." In a more stumbling voice, he added, "I-I can hunt. I'm a hard worker. I'll protect these cats with my life, I promise. Just…please allow me to join you. I'm begging you." He crouched down low, his forehead nearly brushing the ground. "Please."

Twist looked over at Declan. He was watching her levelly, his green eyes steady as a river.

She knew what he was thinking. She knew, because she was thinking the exact opposite.

"It's your call," Declan said.

"You're the head of this group," she pointed out scathingly.

He chuckled. "And you're the neck. You point the head in whichever direction you want."

She didn't want his teasing. She wanted him to see this clearly. Kale was a Claw. It didn't matter that he was renounced or reformed or whatever he claimed. His kin had done atrocities to the Sliders—to this particular group of Sliders. Twist could see them watching him with loathing now that they understood who he was. They'd lived through the Claws' waking nightmare. They knew what those cats were capable of.

"Your blood calls to violence," Lightfoot spat, finally breaking the silence. "I know. I was with the Claws for long enough. I knew your kin. Your father."

Kale's pale eyes flashed. "I am not my father."

Lightfoot clicked her tongue. "Touchy."

Hazel pressed up against Kale's shoulder. Kale jumped, looking acutely surprised, then leaned into her touch.

Twist watched, feeling torn. As much as she wished to deny it, she knew the truth: Hazel loved Kale. It was as obvious as if it were written in the patterns of stars above. And no matter what Twist said about it, that wasn't going to change. Hazel was as stubborn as she was, after all.

Declan was still watching her.

Twist, turning her face sharply away, muttered, "Do what you want." Her fur was ruffling up around her neck; she could feel it tingling. Her eyes found Streak in the crowd but he was looking pointedly at the ground between his paws, his jaws clamped tightly shut.

Declan said, "You'll have to prove yourself."

Kale nearly tripped over his own paws to stand, his tail sticking straight up. "I will," he promised. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. I swear, Declan, I won't mess this up."

"Try your hardest," Declan said kindly. "You can start by searching out a place to rest. Go with Lightfoot."

Kale's brow furrowed. "Not…?" He looked over at Hazel, who hadn't taken her eyes off of him.

Sounding amused, Declan said, "No, Lightfoot will make sure to show you how we'll be working. Lightfoot?"

Lightfoot was the very picture of delight. Her tail making quick sweeps to either side, she crossed through the loose half-circle of Sliders to Kale's side, nosing him hard in the side. "Let's see you go, Snowy. I'll _make sure _you know what it's like to be a Slider." Twist could hear her low cackle as they moved out of view back down the hillside.

As soon as they were gone, Hazel threw herself on Declan. "Oh, Declan, thank you, thank you so much. You don't know what this means to me."

"Just make sure you keep to your duties and stay out of trouble, little one." Declan touched noses with her. "Now go hunt with Shot. He'll teach you."

Hazel's eyes lit up at the prospect. Babbling out a few dozen more _thank you_s, she scrambled to Shot's side and headed off into the wilderness, her paws dancing over the bare ground.

When Declan turned back, a blissful expression on his face, Twist was glowering. The look slid off his face. "What?"

"Did you notice? She hates me."

"Oh, stars." He playfully prodded her in the side, nearly upending her from her rock. "She does not."

Twist just looked away, trying to keep her expression blank. Inside, she was a writhing mass of guilt and nerves. Of course Hazel was angry with her. Of course. Twist was nothing but a suspicious hawk, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

But…

But Kale couldn't be trusted until he proved himself. It had been the same way in the Sliders. The moon cycle's worth of work had taught the gang to trust her and Declan. Couldn't Hazel see that was why she was doing what she was doing?

Hazel's eyes burned into Twist's memory, sharp with astringent anger.

"Declan." It was Marco. He looked uneasily between them, his mouth tense. "We couldn't find anything."

"No shelter? No ledges?"

"Nothing. This place is completely sheer. We found a tumble of rocks, but…" He trailed off, swallowing.

Twist finished for him. "But that won't protect us from the storm."

Marco turned his weary eyes on her. He shook his head.

Twist looked over at Declan. Her anxiety was pitching in her chest. It was getting dark. The ground was covered with inky black shadows. They lay across Twist's paws like lounging cats, stroking her fur, sinking coldly into her skin.

She lifted a paw quickly, setting it down just as fast—and out of the way of the shadows.

_Stupid, _she thought, blinking quickly. That old fear had come right back, like a reopened wound. The mountains, far from healing her, were breaking her back open.

Declan and Marco were discussing possible shelters but Twist wasn't listening. Her mind was soaring out on invisible wings, covering the distance over this side of the mountain, mapping out every crag and face of it.

They were close to one of Stripes' gang's old hunting grounds, back when Braiser had led them. When Stripes had taken over, they'd moved further up the mountain and into the range. That was when they'd been caught by the Tribe and had to deal with those insufferable Clan cats. That golden-eyed tom still stuck out in her memory. He must be older now, maybe with kits of his own. Living a simpler life than hers, by far. _Must be nice, _she thought, _to live such a pampered life. Warrior my tail._

Twist bit her lip, trying to work out this knot of thoughts. She was getting distracted. Distraction was not very linear or fluid. She had to keep focused. Her mind couldn't wander away from her like this, like a rabbit burrowing into soft soil, leaving behind a…a…

"A tunnel," she whispered.

"What?" Declan turned to her, his eyes wide with interest.

Twist blinked quickly, her heart fluttering. "A tunnel," she said. "There's a tunnel a little bit away from here. Me and… I mean, when I was a kitten, I would play there. It's an old hollowed out streambed. This time of the season, it's long dried up. It'll be perfect for us."

Marco was staring at her with open shock. "Why didn't you mention this _before?"_

"I only just thought of it. It's been so long since I've been up here." She leapt to the ground and began wearing a path in the stone, back and forth, back and forth, in a tight circle. "Everything's coming back to me. I remember this place. I thought it looked familiar, this path. It's the Old Stone. That's what we called it."

_We. _Her and Stripes, back when they'd been closer than littermates. Back before he'd turned dark and frozen inside as the cold-season itself. Before he'd become more of Braiser's child than she was.

Declan was nodding thoughtfully. "A streambed would work great, especially if we're only going to be here until the next green-season. How do we get there?"

That stopped Twist's paws. The excitement, which had been building in her chest like rising water, faltered. "I…I don't know."

Marco growled. "You just said—"

"I know what I said," she snapped. "But this is old territory. I was barely able to walk last time we lived here!"

She looked around her but everything was just gray, gray, gray, and whatever wasn't gray was white. It was impossible to pair her memory to this. Frustration buzzed through her mind like a cloud of bees.

"That's fine," Declan said lightly. "We'll stay here for the night and you can work it out tomorrow in the light."

_We don't have time for that, _Twist thought, resuming her pacing, her eyes blankly staring at the ground beneath her paws. _We'll freeze to death like this. _

Her gang had slept out in the open but it was dozens-strong. Twenty cats wouldn't build up enough warmth, especially not when half of those cats were scrawny younglings or non-fighters.

Then it hit her, so suddenly her heart stopped for a split-second.

There _was_ someone she could ask for help.

Twist met Declan's eyes. _Take care of this, _she thought to him, jerking her head at the rest of the group.

His eyes narrowed, just a bit. He put his head slightly to the side.

She didn't want to tell him where she was going, what she'd decided. He wouldn't approve. He'd want to go with her. And that was very, very dangerous. "I'm going to look around a bit," she said. "I'll be back soon."

He knew better than to argue with her on this. She never hid anything from him—not anymore. "Hurry back," was all he said, and he nuzzled her neck.

Twist bent her head to his for just a moment, closing her eyes and soaking up his warmth, before turning away and climbing up the hillside. She heard sounds of curiosity from the cats behind her but she didn't turn around, even as the shadows enveloped her.

The ground grew snowier as she climbed and it was harder to breathe. The air was thinner this high up; she remembered how heavy she'd thought the air was down in the valley when she'd first come down the mountain with Declan. Back then she'd been tiny and helpless, a burdensome little kitten with a guarded heart and a bad attitude.

"Well," she said, out loud to steady herself, "still one out of two."

The mountain held no comfort for her. It was familiar but foreign, a half-forgotten birdcall or a misplaced dream. Another life away.

Even when she tried to imagine it, Declan was there. He'd slyly inserted himself into all of her memories. He was with her growing up, mocking her for her poor hunting skills. He was there with her and Stripes, struggling to climb the mountain's scraggly husks of trees. And he was there on the mountaintop that night when she'd thought she'd finally done away with Braiser, only for him to come back even stronger and deadlier.

She imagined his eyes then, brilliant yellow and glaring up at her from the abyss. That crevice was still around here somewhere. She could live the rest of her life never seeing that darkness at the bottom again, rolling blackly like poisoned fog.

_Braiser is dead, _she told herself. _Declan saw him dead. He's dead. He can't affect you anymore._

But he could and he did. Rarely did Twist have a nightmare that didn't star his humped, twisted body or his bone-splintered paws or his mouthful of broken, decaying teeth. The smell of his rotting, living body flooded her nostrils even now, threatening to upend the miserly amount of prey she'd forced herself to eat earlier that morning.

The moon broke through the clouds above her just as she reached the place she'd been looking for. The silvery light flooded down over the boulder field, gilding the huge, craggy rocks with beauty. Twist stepped among them, avoiding the patches of dead blackberry bushes and the curled, frost-blackened leaves from the fir trees she could smell from here.

Inhale, exhale. Memories in, memories out. But they wouldn't stay out for long.

Coiling her legs beneath her, Twist leapt up onto the largest boulder, clambering until she sat on the second-tallest shelf of it. Snow had gathered here and she kicked it away with her hindpaws, leaving a flat, freezing bit of stone for her to sit on.

The silence was a balm to her racing heart. She closed her eyes, imagining this place as it used to be. In the green-season—or just the warmer season of the mountains—it would be full of lichen and red berries that were sweet on her young tongue, and birds would perch on these rocks. It was easy hunting, and that meant full stomachs for Spirit and Twist. Spirit had done all the hunting those days; the gang didn't let anyone hunt for the weaker cats. They either hunted or starved, and Twist had seen many old cats starve themselves to death from worn-down teeth or broken claws. Death had been a normal thing to her. Now every death was a tragedy.

And in a way, she liked that. She liked the closeness of the Sliders. She liked how she _cared _about them, genuinely, in a way she never cared about the old gang.

"Sure brings back memories, doesn't it?"

The low voice over her shoulder didn't startle her. In fact, it made her heart slow down a bit, making every heartbeat a heavy pulse. "It does," she agreed, keeping her eyes on the ground ahead of her. "Though every memory's not good."

Stripes laughed, a low, dry sound. "No, I suppose not."

She turned to look at him then, out of the corners of her eyes.

He'd changed. He was bigger now, stronger across the shoulders; it made his body hunch over like an old cat's as he sat on the highest shelf of this same rock. He'd grown into his paws and face a bit more, which made him look haggard. The gray fur over his cheekbones was drawn tight to the skin, sagging low below his yellow eyes. But his markings were the same—thick black stripes over his face and back and tail, highlighted with scratches and scrapes and scars from battles she'd never seen.

"You look good," she said dryly.

Another breathless chuckle. He looked over her head, to where the clouds sent shifting beams of moonlight over the uneven ground. "I'd say the same about you but you're still the same little skinny hare you've always been. At least you've put on some weight since then."

That was very Stripes: a compliment disguised as an insult.

Twist shifted so she could look up at him. "You still hate me?"

She anticipated his answer before he even spoke. Something like, _You thought I ever cared? _or _Obviously. You're still alive, aren't you?_

But Stripes surprised her. With that same aged look, he shook his head, a low, slow sweep from side-to-side. "I never hated you, Twist."

"That's not what you told me when I left. You told me that I would never matter because I didn't stay." All the anger of that moment was filling her now, heating up her blood, the way Stripes always used to. She would get angry just by looking at him sometimes.

But this didn't even look like Stripes anymore. This was Stripes' shadow, aged far past him.

"I was angry," he said. "I said what I liked because I was the leader."

"Was?" That caught her attention.

He gave her a very level sort of look—a very _Declan _look. "Did you really think the gang would last very long after Braiser died? After Spirit killed him?" Bitterness tinged his voice at that. "No, we lasted a bit longer, just to that next cold-season. We were already falling apart when you left. The Tribe chased us away from the best hunting grounds. From there, the mountain got us."

Twist thought, _I should be feeling something. _She knew what he was saying, what it meant, but nothing would come from her heart.

"The gang is dead," she said, sounding very matter-of-fact about it.

Stripes didn't nod this time. He didn't have to.

Twist took in a deep, composed breath. Somewhere, far away, she was reeling, but outwardly, she kept herself calm. "Who's left? Flora? Flick? What about Hazard?"

"Flora's dead. A mountain cat got her a moon cycle after you left. Flick went down the mountain to become a no-pelt's pet." He spat out the word. "Everybody else…" He trailed off, his voice trembling. Then, stronger, he said, "Hazard's alive but his mate isn't. Or his kittens. He doesn't keep around me much. Too painful, I guess."

Twist dropped her gaze to the ground, finally feeling the pinch start in her chest. The sting began behind her eyes. _This is happening, _she thought. _This has happened. Everybody's dead. _

"And you?" she asked, sounding far calmer than she was feeling. Faces were flashing past her in her mind, split-second images of everybody she'd ever known in her kittenhood: Spence, Lily, Jumper, Climber, Yarrow. All dead and bones, buried in the snow.

Stripes took a long time to answer. "I'm…here." He said it simply, nothing hidden. No lies. No old, arrogant Stripes. Just bare, raw pain.

"I wanted to hate you," Twist said in a low voice. "I wanted to. So badly. My whole life I've wanted to hate you."

Stripes looked at her with those hollow eyes. Twist always heard stories about how you could see the spirit of a cat through their eyes. If that was the case, Stripes was completely empty inside, like an old husk. Drained utterly dry by tragedy.

Quietly, he said, "I couldn't ever bring myself to hate you. You were everything I wanted to be."

"And look where it's brought you." Twist felt the fury rip through her then. Her breathing was nothing but ragged gasping. "Look. You're alone. You wouldn't change and now everybody's dead and you're alone."

He didn't argue. He just seemed so…defeated. "Did you come to say _I told you so? _Go ahead. You're right. If that's what you want to hear I'll say it again: you were right to leave us, Twist. Stars, if I were back there now, young and hotheaded and stupid, I'd have gone with you and brought the whole gang down with us. We've done nothing but wither beneath my command."

Twist turned away from him angrily. He looked broken. She hated it. She'd wanted him to be old Stripes so she could try to hate him again, that arrogance that had made her want to beat him, to _show _him. She'd wanted to fling the Sliders in his face and say, _Look at everything I've done. You'll never compare._

She didn't expect him to be like this.

"I'm here with my new gang," she said. "We're looking for the old tunnels. I couldn't remember where they were so I came to ask you."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "This is where I'd be." _The only place I ever liked on this nightmarish mountain, _she added silently.

"Mm." He looked around, his haggard face turning softer for a few heartbeats. "We had some good times here, Twist."

"Do you live here?"

"For as long as this life will have me. Then I plan to die here." When Twist turned an astonished look at him, he laughed, the sound quiet and wry. "Do you really think a cat can last out here alone? Hazard's done the same. He went off a few days ago to find a nice spot to die."

"You shouldn't talk that way," she snapped. "We weren't trained that way. We didn't grow up that way, Stripes. Value your own life above everybody else's, remember?"

"That was a thousand lifetimes ago," Stripes said.

"You're broken," Twist growled.

"Yes," he said, surprising her. "But you are, too."

"I'm not," she said savagely. She sprang off the rock. "I'm better. I'm…I'm normal now. This place—it messed me up for so long. I was trapped here even when I wasn't here." She looked up at him, framed by the moonlight. "I didn't want that. I never did. And you don't have to have this either." The words were out of her mouth before she could even think twice about them. "Come with us. Help me find the tunnels. You can join my group. You can—"

Stripes slinked off of the rock, landing messily on the ground. He'd lost so much weight. It had been a miracle that he'd been able to sneak up on her in the first place. "No," he said quietly. "I don't want to join your group. I…I can't handle that anymore." He took in a deep breath. "But…I will help you. I owe you, Twist, after everything."

Her breath caught in her chest. "You don't owe me anything."

Stripes didn't reply. He pushed past her, his shoulder barely brushing hers, and said, "Come on. This way."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm trying to work on non-dramatic endings. I end too many chapters on cliffhangers and it's starting to feel like bad television.<strong>

**Not even the good cliffhangers of good television, like Scandal or Doctor Who. -convulses with fangirl glee-**

**Anyway, bedtime!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	25. Night and Day

**Well, this is certainly overdue!**

**I've had a lot of work piling up that I had to tend to, which I have placed into this nice little list:**

**1. Working hard at my job and saving up $1,000**

**2. Workshops and lit classes **

**3. Writing a novel**

**4. NaNoWriMo**

**5. WRITING A NOVEL**

**That's right, readers. I HAVE REWRITTEN MY LOVELY MASTERPIECE. It's really the only original fiction thing I talk about on here, and I've rewritten it like freaking six times. I just entered ABNA and, after a few days of frantic line-editing, am satisfied with it. For now. Soon I'll tear it apart and probably write it again, but for now, I am content. **

**Anyway, tl;dr, here is the next chapter of Float. **

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>"Did you ever find your mother?"<p>

Stripes voice cut through the wind in Twist's ears. She had her head ducked down against the wind, her whiskers pressed flat against her face. When she looked over at him, he was watching her, his yellow eyes dull as stones.

"Yes," she answered, looking away. It hurt to look at something like him, something strong but broken. A downed eagle. Something completely isolated from its element. "She's got a new litter of kits."

"So she's doing well." He nodded to himself; she watched him from the corners of her eyes. "Good. It's good that she found peace after what she did."

_That's right, _Twist thought. _He thinks she killed Braiser. _

The whole gang had to. That was what Spirit wanted all along.

"Her kits are probably on their own now," she went on. "Anole, the youngest female, is very animated. She holds much of my mother's fire." The last time Twist saw her, Anole wanted to go out adventuring in the moorlands on the far side of Claw territory. Twist, of course, had been for the idea. Spirit, not so much.

"I remember being that way." Despite the low tone of Stripes' voice, his paws were steady as he led Twist down the forgotten, dusty pathways of her memory. The map in her head filled out, marking every dead tree and rock and pit in the rocky ground, making a way for her to find her way. "Youth is something I miss now. That thirst for life. Now I only want..." He trailed off, seeming not even to notice it.

Twist wondered how often Stripes spoke aloud to himself. It must have been the only thing to keep himself from going mad in the middle of this desolation.

They didn't speak for awhile after that. Twist followed him up the thin pathway that curved around the mountain's cleft, barefacedly directed at the screaming wind. It nearly gusted her off her paws a few times but Stripes reached out to steady her with a foreleg that was thicker than nearly her entire body. She skittered away, nervous and unsure of him still, but he said nothing in return.

The Old Stone unraveled in front of her like a knotted vine. It was half-buried beneath still-falling snow, crunching beneath every step she took. It was a thin path, curving like bent whiskers, hemmed in on the sides with dead brush that would be thick thorns in better weather. Berries would cling, fat and red and juicy, and blackbirds would nest here to feast. Twist remembered many times waiting for the stupid birds to dip their heads and hide their eyes before pouncing and stealing the life from their bodies to supply her own. It had been her entire kithood, this place.

A cavern yawned up ahead, tilted slightly upwards where the wind could whistle through. The sound was low, musical. It lifted the hairs on Twist's spine.

Stripes stopped in front of it. His mouth parted a bit as he inhaled, brushing the scent across his tongue. "Stale," he said.

"What?"

"Cat-scent. But it's stale. No one has lived here in a long time." Without waiting for futher comment, he stepped down into the darkness, his gray pelt swallowed up in the shadows.

Twist halted at the front, heart racing like a pinned bird. Her tongue went dry.

Stripes reappeared. "It's okay," he said. "Nobody's here but me and you."

_That's how it always was, _she thought. Scolding herself for being so sentimental, Twist swallowed past her stuck throat, and stepped down into the cavern.

Ancient water had scraped it from the earth. The walls were smooth as downy feathers, shiny in places, where the river had once coursed. She looked up at it, watching the pattern of stone wave between hues of gray, red, black, brown, white. Every color imaginable. Flecks of shinier stuff, metal or clear stone, reflected what weak moonlight managed to get through the tattered storm clouds.

It was deep. They walked for several long moments, silent as mice, before they reached the end. The passage constricted down to a hole in the wall, big enough for a small cat like her to squeeze through. Wind came in, fresh and clean from the snow. It dusted over her nose and whiskers, making them stick with flakes.

Twist twitched her nose to shake them off, then turned to face the main cavern.

It was long and deep but not particularly high. She imagined if Declan or Lightfoot reared up onto their hind legs and stretched, they could brush their toes on the ceiling. But what it lacked in height, it made up for in warmth. Already the temperature had climbed, shaking the shivers from Twist's spine. Her breath didn't cloud in front of her.

_ Perfect, _she thought. Just as she remembered. She and Stripes had spent many nights here, hiding from the rest of the gang, playing hunting games. It had been their hidden place, their secret.

Now it would be home to another secret.

Stripes had sat down heavily in the center of the place, breathing hard. The flecks in the wall created enough light for her to see the channels of his face, deep like grooves, where the bones stuck out sharply from his skin. She could count the ribs down his sides. The lay of his fur was dull and unkempt, not thick like it should be, this deep into the cold-season.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, for politeness' sake. She already knew the answer.

He laughed, a low hollow sound, more a cough than anything. "Hard eating up here when you hunt alone," he said. "I don't know how we did it when we were younger."

Twist pursed her lips. "When did you eat last?"

"I don't know. A few days ago. I found some dead thing and ate as much as I could stomach."

A war was rising up in her. Her group was waiting for her to return, Declan and Hazel especially. But Stripes was here dying before her eyes.

She gritted her teeth. Sympathy was a pain sometimes.

"Wait here," she said.

Stripes looked up, surprised, but didn't protest. He collapsed onto the ground, curling tight in on himself. Twist turned her back on him and went back out into the storm.

When she returned, a sparse shrew in tow, Stripes' surprise grew more apparent. He half-rose to his feet but she tossed it down to him and said, "Eat. Your reward for helping me."

He fell on it like he was an inch from starvation. Perhaps he was. Within moments, the shrew was nothing but bone and sinew, and even that Stripes picked clean, breaking the bones open for the dark marrow inside, eating every scrap of the chewy tendons and ligaments, until the only piece left in whole was the skull.

Twist, wordless, returned outside.

It took longer but she managed to find a young rabbit, separated from its warren. It was fat and pure white: prepared for the cold-season. After making sure it was properly old enough, Twist broke its spine and returned to Stripes.

As he ate, she told him the story of the Sliders and the Claws, because something had to fill the awful silence. She told him why they'd come to the mountains. She told him about Hazel and Audrey and Snit, and how Braiser had come back like a fresh infection on an old wound. She told him how the Rogue had twisted his own children into puppets of war, and how hard it was to break them of their old habits.

And she told him about Declan.

Stripes looked up at that. "You have a mate?"

A warm flush rose into her throat, making her heart beat quicker. "Yes," she said.

"You love him?"

"If it were his life against my own, I would choose him."

He blinked. Out of anybody, he would understand what that kind of declaration meant. The old gang's style had burned into her blood, true enough, but she had burned it right back out.

"Do you have kits?"

"Hazel is as good as a daughter to me. She's all I need."

"Despite the fact she's not blood?"

Twist looked away uneasily. "There's more to life than blood relation. I find that her distance from myself in that area is a good thing. I'm not something that should continue. My bloodline. I've seen what my blood can do and I have no wish to bring that down upon a litter of kits."

"You give yourself too little credit," he said. The rabbit was bones at his paws. He'd eaten every bit of it, too, and now a bit of life had come back into his pitted eyes.

Twist hummed. "Perhaps."

In this way, they were kits again. Young and innocent. Talking secrets to each other in dark places. This was the Stripes she could remember, not fondly but not too far off. The Stripes that dominated her memory was the one who claimed no one would ever care for again.

And despite their conversations this night, Twist could not separate those two cats from her mind.

She rose to her feet. "I have to go to them now. They're waiting for me."

Stripes said, "Of course. I understand." It sounded off, rehearsed. "Thank you for the meal. I don't...I don't deserve kindness. But I appreciate it."

"If there's one thing I've learned in my time apart from the gang, it's that there's always some cat willing to show kindness if the other will receive it." Declan's face burned in her mind, but the burn was sweet. Aching. In the way she ached for him now, parted from him.

Stripes' mouth curved wryly. "I feel like you're an entirely different cat, Twist. Hardened. A purer kind of element."

She shrugged again. "I feel like you've grown philosophical in your old age, Stripes."

Another hollow laugh. A shout from across a vast cavity of empty space. "Any cat will grow philosophical if you leave him out beneath the stars for long enough." But he stood all the same, something new in him. "Goodbye, Twist. I'm not selfish enough to say I hope we'll meet again. I'm not that foolish."

But Twist didn't laugh at his self-deprecation. "If you ever need somewhere warm to sleep, you know where to go. I'll make sure everyone takes care of you."

Stripes inclined his head, slightly at first, then deeper. A subordinate to a leader. Twist was stunned.

"I'll remember that. You remember me."

And then he was gone, out of the den, leaving behind just his smell and the memory of his words in Twist's head: echoing, echoing, echoing.

XXXXXXXX

"So this is it, huh?" Declan looked around appreciatively. "It's nice. Warm. Low."

Lightfoot, however, hadn't been so accommodating. "Stars above," she spat crossly. "We move from one Warren to another! Does any cat here actually _want _to live in caves?"

Twist rolled her eyes.

It was too late to go out and find supplies for nests, so they just made do with the dusty stone floor. They curled in piles, back-to-back, paws crossing paws, tails flopping everywhere. The air rose to a comfortable temperature, still a little chill. Flakes drifted in through the hole in the wall.

Lying down facing it, staring up at the stormy sky, Twist couldn't shake the boding dread in her chest. _I should have made him stay, _she thought, her mind on Stripes. _I should never have let him go back out into the storm. _

Declan's shoulders were warm against hers as he shuffled, uneasy in sleep, as he tended to be. Awake late into the night, Twist realized this was his night every night. Restless. Nightmares chasing him.

She turned and leaned over him, looking down at his face. It was pinched, his lips curled, his eyes jammed closed. As she watched, he twitched, a tiny sound escaping him. _Don't. _

Pain clenched in her lungs, sharper than the bite of the cold.

Her nose found his cheek in the darkness. Beneath her touch, he awoke, starting at first. Then he relaxed into her, a great breath leaving his lungs at once.

"Braiser," he said. It was all that needed to be said. Twist's father walked in more dreams than hers.

Declan turned until he was facing her. Twist snuggled into his chest, her cheek in the thick white fur there, her paw draped across his back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. All around her was the sleeping sounds of her gang, the ones who she'd sworn to protect. That should have put her at ease but nerves bit at her, chewing uncertainty into her mind.

He breathed in slowly, taking in her scent. "Me too."

Twist closed her eyes tight. "I love you."

Declan rested his chin on top of her head and said nothing, but the beat of his heart, quick and leaping, soothed her worries. At least for now.

They lay there together, not sleeping, but dozing, until the sun rose the next morning.

"All right," Twist yowled, feeling refreshed by last night's silent confessions. "Everybody up. Today's lesson: living in the mountains. Part one."

"Of what?" Hazel said blearily, her eyes half-closed. She blinked quickly, yawning widely. At her side, where Twist expected to see Streak and dreaded to see Kale, was Lightfoot. Across the pile of rousing cats, they lay on opposite sides; Streak next to Max and Marco, and Kale alone on the outside, isolated from every cat near him. Twist found herself cruelly pleased to see how tired and cold he looked, his fur ruffled up.

"What?"

"Part one of _what?"_

Twist thought for a moment. "Of many," she answered at last.

Hazel groaned, falling back on Lightfoot's flank.

Lightfoot, far from looking annoyed, looked thoughtful. "Are you going to teach us?"

Ignoring the slight burr of condescension in her voice, Twist said, "Yes."

"And how is this different from normal life?"

"It's normal life, plus mountains. Now stop giving me that look and get up. We'll have a nice walk around the area and then we'll hunt. After that, we're going to collect nest material and find a water source."

"But it's _cold _outside," Felix said, shivering beneath his gray tabby coat that was still too thin. He had weaker blood, pet stock. Out of everybody, he would have the most trouble, Twist thought.

But she didn't have any sympathy for him. "Then go back down the mountains and get killed by Blackjack. I don't really care either way. One fewer whiny mouth seems like a pretty good deal to me."

Felix shut up very quickly after that, sharing a look with Cascade.

_Oh good, _Twist thought, annoyed. _Group up and form a club, why don't you?_

Outside, it _was _cold, admittedly. Snow had fallen even thicker but the tilted mouth of the Old Stone had kept most of it out. It laid upon itself thickly, closing in the mouth. Twist shoved her shoulders up against the ceiling of snow but it wouldn't budge.

Gravel came along and nudged her out of the way. "Let me show you how it's done," he said smugly, heaving upwards.

The snow didn't budge.

Gravel frowned and tried again, his face contorting with the effort. He sagged back down, thumping his paws irritatedly up against the snow.

"So that's how it's done, is it?" Adder asked snidely.

Gravel whipped around. "Come over here, young'un, and I'll show you how it's done."

"Enough." Lightfoot, having roused herself from Hazel's clinging body, pushed past them all. With a coil of her haunches, she launched herself upwards, punching through the snow and out onto the path above. "_That's _how it's done, toms." Her voice sounded muffled.

Gravel, his frown even more severe, said nothing more as he clambered out onto the snow.

Once the entire group had assembled, some more willing than others, Twist led them around the Old Stone. Daylight made it seem less severe; some of the plant life had survived, albeit crusted with snow.

Streak, who'd been melancholy and sullen, padded up to a clump of it and pawed away the ice. "Tansy," he said. "Good for coughs."

Twist was surprised. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. In the distance behind him, Hazel and Kale were bounding through the snow together, matching pawprints; Twist felt a curious pang of dislike about the entire affair. "Flint taught me some," he said. "When I was, er...in camp."

_In camp waiting for Hazel to be finished with her punishment, _Twist thought. Streak had been bettering himself while Hazel had been sulking. "I didn't know you'd done that."

"I didn't tell anybody. I thought it was something to do just to pass the time. I didn't think that it would work out like this."

Twist glanced over his shoulder again. Kale and Hazel weren't speaking, just looking at each other. Undeniable love was in Hazel's eyes.

It made Twist feel old, old as the seasons. Just yesterday, Hazel had been blind, deaf kit in her paws. Now she was in love.

"Do you think you made the right choice in coming here?" Twist asked.

Streak looked up at her, misery in his eyes.

_He's told her. _A shiver went down her spine. _He's told her he loves her. _

Of course Twist had known. She'd known Hazel's whole life. Ever since the first time Streak saw Hazel, she knew. _She's beautiful, _he'd said, still young, still innocent. All big eyes and paws he hadn't grown into. _She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. _

"Can I ask you something, Twist?"

"Of course." She turned to him, sitting close, the way she'd done when she'd been appointed his guardian, so long ago.

And Streak hunched forward, his head below hers, like he was still a kit. "Do you think that some cats are meant for each other?"

The question stuck in her brain. "Yes," she said, thinking of her mother and Teddy, of herself and Declan. "I do."

"But what if one cat thinks something differently than the other? What if they don't...feel the same way?"

_Or if they love someone else, _she thought. Kale was laughing, whisking the tip of his tail across Hazel's nose playfully, unintentionally interrupting Lightfoot's lecture about sure footing; she stomped over to him for a scolding.

Twist looked back to Streak,who was watching her with his breath held, hope in every tensed inch of him.

She sighed. She wanted to give him a better answer. "I don't know, Streak. Sometimes there's no helping what happens."

Streak's jaw tensed. "There can be," he said. "I know there's a way to—" He stopped himself, his eyes narrowing. "There has to be."

Twist drew him close, giving him an affectionate lick across his ears.

He leaned his head against her shoulder, his eyes fixed burning on the ground. "This hurts," he said.

_I know, _she thought, but she didn't say it aloud. She just drew him closer, her tail around his back, and watched her gang prepare for a silent war.

* * *

><p><strong>Huh. Without Word - my subscription ran out - and without knowing how long my chapters are while I'm writing, they seem to turn out...shorter. Weird. This is only a 3k, which is like 2k under what I usually write, but this felt like a nice reintroduction to the fic. I am pleased with it. :3<strong>

**Now I shall go eat fried chicken and ice cream. Er, not together. But close enough. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	26. Blood and Spirit

**I dunno why I keep putting off updating. It only takes like an hour and a half to write a chapter, and on Wednesdays, I really have nothing else better to do. XD I only have one class today, and I've already made a lasagna and done all my homework. I am a BEAST.**

**So here's another chapter. You're welcome. XD**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>Hazel stuck her nose out into the void. The wind blew back her whiskers into her eyes, making her wince. It stung a bit but it was worth it to see such spiraling, endless grayness.<p>

It spread out beneath her, the mountain's flanks, the valley beneath, so distant that it looked like a white pelt, marked here and there by jutting gray stone and patches where a river cut through the ground. It was probably hard with ice, frozen solid. The day before, she and Kale had found a frozen river and slid across the top of it. It had been one of the funnest thing she'd ever done in her life.

She glanced over at him now. He was crouched like her, his paws overhanging the gap, looking completely at ease. Of course someone so sure of himself would look at home here, Hazel thought, her eyes roving over him, his pale pelt, only looking not-white because of the glaring brightness of the snow around him. His paws dipped in the wind, the claws unsheathing and sheathing at the breeze, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

And when he looked over at her, softness.

"What do you think?" he asked. Behind him, snow fell in heaving gasps from the mountaintop. They showered down a mile away, dusting the gray stone.

"It's amazing! I've never seen so much stuff at once. It's like the whole world right in front of me." She stretched her paw out over the gap. "Like I could almost touch it."

Kale purred, his eyes closed to happy slits. "I'm glad you like it. I found it a few days ago patrolling around with Ren and Violet."

"Yes, a bunch of sappy sops," she said. "Making eyes at each other whenever they get the chance. There'll be kits soon, you'll see."

"Just because they're in love doesn't mean they have to have kits, Hazel." He whapped her playfully across the nose with his soft paw. "You're thinking into it too much."

She harrumphed. "We'll see. I'll be right, you know."

"Yes, because you always are. Like when you said the ice wouldn't break yesterday. And what did you get? Soaked fur and a scolding from Twist."

Hazel put her ears back and scoffed. "Twist can go chase her own tail. I'm tired of her mothering over me."

"She's your mother."

"She's my guardian," Hazel corrected. "She was. When I was a kit."

Sympathetically, he said, "You're still young. She feels the need to protect you."

The silent _from me _hovered between them like a cloud of vapor. It distanced them. And Hazel didn't want distance.

She scooted over until her flank touched his and nestled her cheek against his bony shoulder. It pushed up her skin nearly over her eye, so she just closed it, looking over the valley with one eye. "I don't care. I don't need protecting. I've got you. You'll protect me, won't you?"

Kale made an odd little sound, like a start of surprise. Then he said, "Of course. That's my job now. You're my first priority, Hazel."

She yawned sleepily, shutting her other eye. In the warm darkness of dozing, she felt him shift a bit, putting his muzzle on top of her head and beginning to clean her ears. It felt nice, this closeness. Comforting.

Twist always told her to be safe, to not go out with Kale alone. She didn't trust him. She didn't trust anybody. Not even herself, Hazel thought sometimes.

Well, that was all fine anyway. Hazel felt very safe with Kale, safer than she'd felt with anybody before.

Except Streak.

Agony ripped through her, nearly bowing her in half. He'd avoided her ever since that night out on the mountainside when he'd confessed that he loved her. Every time she tried to catch his eyes or speak with him, he'd coast away easy as a shadow, disappearing into the mountain's savageness or dipping between cats and away.

_I don't want this, _she thought. Out of everything, that was the only problem, the only splotch of imperfection in this new life. She wanted Streak. She loved him. But not in the way he wanted her to.

_I can't help it, _she thought. _You can't help who you love, after all. Kale got to my heart first. That's all. That's it. Declan and Twist only have each other, after all. That's good enough for them. They never had doubts about anything._

Declan had told her, once when she was a tiny kit, about soulmates. He'd set her down between his big warm paws and told her the story of how he'd met Twist.

"Some cats, you just know," he said. "I knew Twist the moment I saw her. It felt like I'd been looking for her my whole life and I'd only just realized it. When I set eyes on her, I knew in some way, she'd been waiting for me, too."

Hazel had been confused. Too young for such grand talks of love and devotion. She remembered asking, "So does that mean you're done? No more?"

And Declan had laughed and drawn her close and touched his nose to hers in that easy, affectionate way he had, and he'd said, "I am absolutely done."

Kale asked, "Are you happy?"

Hazel jerked out of her half-doze, blinking in the bright sunlight. "Happy?"

"With this," he said, gesturing with a paw to the mountain behind them. Then more hesitantly, added, "With...me."

Hazel sat upright very quickly. Too quickly; her head spun. She looked over at him, sitting uneasily, his mouth at an angle. "Of course," she said. "I love you. I want this. I want _you."_

Kale's eyes widened. "But do... Never mind."

"No, tell me." She laid a paw across his, leaning close. His whiskers mixed with hers.

Kale looked away for a moment, his throat working, then back to her. "Do you really love me? Are you sure you haven't just tricked yourself into it somehow? You're not just playing along with me, are you?"

Hazel was mad. She pushed away from him and to her paws, stalking down the mountainside. Behind her, he scurried to his paws and followed after her, concern in his voice when he spoke.

"I don't mean it like that. _Hazel, _stop."

"Playing along with you," she spat. "Do you think I'd really do that? That this is just some kind of game to pass the time?"

"No," he said, sounding so desperate that she did stop. She turned around and glared at him, angry for the accusation and angry that he'd thought so deeply into it.

He was standing hunched, his head low, his paws spread across the icy ground. Even slumped over, he was taller than her, but not narrower. Hazel's legs were nothing but twigs next to his.

"I didn't mean it like that," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "I just... I don't know. I was afraid that you wouldn't love me anymore if I came up here. I was afraid you wouldn't want me."

Hazel's throat felt full of mud. "Then why didn't you say that earlier?"

"I didn't want you to think that I was pathetic. For wanting you so badly that I followed you into the mountains." He took in a deep, sharp breath. "I just want to be with you. Not being with you feels...wrong."

A pang of something deep and aching went through her chest. Anger gone, she moved up to him and put her head beneath his chin, closing her eyes. "You worry too much," she said. "I mean, you're still the same cat from that night under the stars, aren't you? The one who told me he loved me." _The one I love more than anything else. _

Kale didn't laugh but he made an approximate noise, a low sound that echoed through her ear against his chest. "Do you doubt me?"

"No," she whispered against his fur.

"Then that's all that counts. Now come on," he said, breaking away from her, light coming back into his pale blue eyes. "They'll be missing us."

Hazel laughed, springing through the snow ahead of him. "Since when do you care about what they want?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a small, dark shape curving into the body of the mountain, but when she looked back, it was gone and quickly forgotten.

XXXXXXXXX

Twist, predictably, was furious.

"Do you have a hearing problem?" she demanded. "Do you have some sort of mental deficiency? Were you not listening when I said, very clearly, not to go out into the mountains in groups smaller than three?"

"Well, we were at two," Hazel said testily, already bored with this conflict. "That's close enough."

"Close enough," Twist echoed hollowly.

"I mean, what were you expecting? If I fell off a mountain, how would having two cats make a difference? One could sob over my broken body and the other could also sob?"

Twist's teeth were bared. "You are infuriating and childish," she said. "You don't get that you make cats worry."

"There's no need to worry anymore!" Hazel snapped. Everyone was watching as they ate sparse meals of captured rabbits and tiny mountain birds. "What threat is out here in the middle of nowhere? Nobody lives here but us!"

"And wolves," Marco supplied helpfully, looking up from where he was grooming Max's torn ears. "And eagles. And foxes. And mountain lions. And no-pelts. And poisonous plants and cavities and wind to blow you off the ground and snow that can blind you."

Hazel whirled on him, her fur up. "Nobody asked you."

Far from looking annoyed, Marco looked faintly amused. "Sorry, Hazel. The dramatics of kits don't interest me."

She let out a furious, muffled screech from between her teeth. "I don't have to deal with this right now. I'm going hunting."

She stalked to the mouth of the tunnel but Declan was there.

He stepped up and stood in her way, a mournful expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Hazel," he said. "But you can't go out by yourself. Two others, remember."

She whirled back to the watching cats. Most of them had gone back to their business of eating or grooming each other, but Kale hadn't. He was laying by himself on the outskirts, not making eye-contact with anybody. Nobody trusted him because of his old gang, the Claws. Nobody probably ever would.

"Kale," she said.

"Two," Declan reminded her patiently.

"Then you can come with us."

Declan laughed, fondly ruffling her ears with a paw. "Out into the freezing afternoon? No, I'm too old for that."

"You're not old," Hazel accused, her anger fading. She couldn't stay mad for long at Declan, no matter how hard she wanted to. "You're just lazy."

"Yes," he agreed readily. "Yes, I am."

Kale had skittered up next to her, standing in his uncertain way. Declan was watching him, a measured expression on his face, curiously non-emotive for Declan. Like he was being very, very careful.

"Two," Declan said again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Streak look up quickly and away again.

Hazel hated that this was so hard. It was nearly impossible for her to ask him, knowing how different things were. The ground had shifted, and nothing was how it had been. But she wanted it to be.

So she said, "Catch, want to come? We can go hunting."

She was so certain he would say no. So certain that she'd already prepared herself for the disappointment of his rejection, bracing herself for the impact of those words.

But to her astonishment, he got to his paws and crossed the tunnel to her side. The look on his face was his usual serene one, flat somehow, like it was a thin layer of ice stretched across coursing water.

"Sure, I could do some hunting." He looked over his shoulder through the gloom to Twist, who was looking at him with open shock, her mouth parted. "Three," he said. "Is that okay, Twist? Declan?"

Twist didn't recover in time so Declan said, "Yes, of course, Streak. You're in charge."

In the midst of the den, Lightfoot snorted. "I can see how this'll go," she said to no one in particular.

Outside, the sun was about halfway down to the horizon. It made the light dimmer, orangey like marigold petals.

Streak led the way down the mountainside, his footsteps sure. Kale followed up behind, at Hazel's side. But curiously, Hazel wished he'd stand a little further away, not so close that his fur brushed hers with every step. When he dipped down to press his cheek to hers and Streak saw and turned away quickly, Hazel felt a hot stab of embarrassment, even though she'd never felt embarrassed of him before. She wasn't sure why she was feeling it now.

They reached the usual hunting spot, a clump of bristly black scrub. Thorns mostly, dried to husks that broke beneath even the gentlest touch.

Streak went headfirst into them, wincing his eyes closed from the thorns' grabbing, and Hazel followed.

Kale stopped at the edge, looking uncertain. "In here?"

"Come on!" Hazel shouted, leaping up to him. Her tail was curled over her back but the breeze pushed it further away, tugging at her fur. "Let's go catch something. It'll take your mind off of it."

Kale said warily, "Of what?"

Hazel gave him a knowing look. Behind her, she felt the familiar weight of Streak's gaze on her. "Of everybody disliking you. I'm not stupid, you know. I noticed."

Everybody had noticed because everybody was treating Kale like a pariah. Blood meant nothing to Hazel. It shouldn't mean anything to anybody. Just because someone was related to a bad cat didn't make them inherently bad. It wasn't something controlled by who your father was or who your siblings were. It was ridiculous to have it treated that way.

Kale's mouth quirked, but in a sad kind of way, almost a frown. "It's not that. But really, thanks for reminding me."

Hazel touched her nose to his. "It doesn't matter. I like you. That's all that counts."

Kale didn't say anything, but his eyes softened.

Behind them, Streak cleared his throat significantly. "You know," he said stiffly, "if I wanted to see you two make eyes at each other, I would have stayed back in the den. It's warmer there anyway."

Hazel looked over at him curiously but he'd already looked away. The fur along his spine was up and his tail swished side to side, too jerky and sudden.

_He's mad, _she realized. It took awhile for that to sink in, because she could count only a few times when she'd seen him truly angry. Including the night he told her he loved her.

Another guilty twist in her stomach. Another breathless, wordless ache.

Kale whispered, "You should go talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

"Yes he does. Everyone can see it." His voice dropped a pitch. "Even me. Especially me. Just do it, okay? For me."

It was odd, she thought, for Kale to say that. _For me. _As if Hazel didn't already want to talk to Streak, almost more than anything. As if Kale knew him better than she did.

"Okay," she said. "Go hunt."

"I will." They touched noses and he sprang in the opposite direction, his pale fur swallowed up by thorns.

Hazel turned in Streak's direction, taking a deep, steadying breath. Then she moved to his side.

He was staring resolutely in front of him, his jaw tense. She could see the muscles standing out through his fur.

She looked up at him, at the face she'd known for as long as she could remember. It was his face that she always thought of when she thought of _home. _The word was synonymous with him. If he wasn't with her, then she wasn't home.

"Streak," she said softly.

He didn't move but his legs were shaking slightly.

Hazel looked down at the ground. Her white paws looked so tiny next to his massive pawprints, like she still was a kit tagging after him, following and nattering and annoying him. But he'd never gotten cross with her. Only recently had she realized that was because he'd been selected to watch over her. But that didn't matter anymore.

"Streak, I don't want you to hate me."

Now he moved. He laughed, a sullen broken sound.

Pushing on, she said, "I don't know what you want me to say. I want things to be like they were before, back when we were best friends. I hate not talking to you. I hate you not talking to me."

"Hazel, there is nothing stopping us from being best friends."

"But there _is," _she insisted. "You're...you're jealous of Kale."

All the breath left him in one solid heave. He turned to look down at her incredulously, his eyes wide. "Is that really what you think? That it's about him? That I'm _jealous?"_

It sounded foolish now, and Hazel wished she hadn't said it. But it was too late now.

Quietly, she said, "Because I don't love you like you want me to."

Streak dropped his stiff mask now. He looked stricken. "Hazel, you can't possibly believe that's why I haven't spoken to you. I don't—It doesn't matter if you don't...you know...like I do. I mean, it's hard now. Stars, it's hard. But..." He took in a deep breath before continuing all in one rush. "But I want you to be happy. And if that's with Kale, that's fine. That's great, even."

"I am happy," Hazel said, her voice a whisper for some reason.

Streak nodded jerkily. "Then that's all that counts. I'm happy for you." He nudged her. "Now come on, Patch. I'll race you to catch something."

"Great!" she said, relief as strong as fire in her chest. This was perfect now, she thought as they leapt through thorns, coordinating and moving together without even speaking, the way she'd always moved with him.

A bird sat in front of them, pecking at specks on the ground.

Across the way, Streak met her eyes. He nodded her forward.

Hazel watched for a moment, uneasiness creeping up into her mind. She'd still never killed something before. That one time with Kale had been the closest she'd ever gotten to hunting something that wasn't her own tail or a shadow. Lightfoot had been teaching her the methods to do it but only on leaves or rocks. Never something with a heartbeat.

Hazel took a step forward, keeping her body low. The bird didn't even notice. It was rapt on its pecking, not even realizing the danger until Hazel had curled her legs and sprang.

It was between her paws then, a live burst of panic. It bit and scratched at her pads but she felt nothing but exhilaration. Exhilaration of having this living thing so tightly within her grasp, its life within her reach. Its heartbeat fluttered beneath her touch, its eyes nearly bugging out of its head. It was cawing with pain from its trapped wings, wings that would never gather wind beneath them again.

It was a thrill. It was something she'd never experienced. It was a power.

Gently, she extended her claws. They bit into the bird's flesh.

At once, it went rigid. Its tiny chest heaved with quick, shallow breaths, its eyes unblinking.

Hazel watched it greedily, the smell of blood sharp in her nose. Then she flexed her claws a bit deeper.

The bird screamed.

"Hazel!" Streak was there, swatting her paws apart. The bird fell limply to the ground, bleeding, and he broke its neck with a thump of his forepaw, ending its pain.

Hazel stared at the unmoving body, blinking heavily, like she was waking up.

Steak was furious. "What in the stars' name was that?" he demanded. "You were torturing it!"

"What? No I wasn't."

"Yes you were. A hunter doesn't play with their food, Hazel. We kill quickly and mercifully. We don't split their skin and watch them bleed." His expression was contorted. "Honestly, what were you thinking? Couldn't you tell it was in agony?"

Hazel looked down at the bird again. She had known it was in agony. But that had been the rush of it.

Sickly, poisonous guilt fell like a stone in her stomach. She felt her whole body move with it.

Pushing herself up, she stepped back several steps, eyes locked on the bird.

She'd like it. She'd _loved _it.

And that was sick.

"I don't know," she was saying, before she even knew she was speaking. "I don't know. I don't know."

It ran in an endless loop in her head. That confusion. That bloodlust. Where it had filled her veins with power before, now it flooded with nausea. She thought she might be sick.

Kale bounded from out of the thorns, a mouse in his mouth. He dropped it and rushed to her side at once, pressing his flank to hers.

"What happened?" he asked, sounding panicky.

Streak didn't say anything. Neither did Hazel. They were still staring at each other, Hazel with desperate confusion, Streak with a very, carefully-blank expression.

Kale looked between them. "Is somebody going to explain this?"

"Hazel caught a bird but couldn't kill it," Streak said smoothly. "It upset her."

"Oh." Kale's fur relaxed. "Well, that's okay. Everybody's first kill is the hardest. You'll do better next time, Hazel."

_He swallowed it right up, _she thought. He hadn't even imagined she would be capable of such cruelty. If he'd looked closer, he could have seen the clawmarks in the body or smelled the blood. But he didn't. He trusted her not to lie.

Streak had lied very convincingly. How many times had he done that to her, only for her not to notice?

"Well, this is enough, anyway." Streak picked up the bird, Kale the mouse, and they went back to the den, where everybody was waiting for them.

Hazel kept her eyes on the ground, her mind turned inward. _Why did that happen to me? _she wondered numbly, her pawsteps reverberating up into her bones hollowly. _Why did I lose control like that? _

It obviously wasn't normal. After all, Streak had killed hundreds of prey animals and he'd never lost his mind like that.

_It was just a fluke, a one-time thing. It has to be. _

Hazel would not allow herself to be a monster. And what she'd done had been monstrous.

But even that flew out of her head when they walked into the den.

Because right in the center of it, surrounding by the hostile knot of Sliders, was an unfamiliar gray tabby tom, stained with blood.

"They know," he said, talking directly to Twist, who was standing the closest.

_They know, _Hazel thought, a thrill of dread strangling off her breath. _The Watchers. _

The tom swallowed with difficulty; blood matted his throat. "They know about you. And they're coming."

* * *

><p><strong>God, this thing has been stagnating. The plot, that is. This is mostly because half the time, I'm making stuff up as I go along, I've realized. Not to worry, however, because now I have an outline. They really are helpful things, outlines. <strong>

**Oh, right! I was gonna say! We, reader, should be friends on the Tumblrs. I'm Unknown-Soldier-Shadow, so you should follow me so I can follow you and we can all have a nice Tumblr experience. Also because basically I just love Tumblr and want to see more postings and giggle at the funnies. **

**So that's it. I'm gonna go... I dunno. I'll find something productive to do, I guess. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	27. Rise and Fall

**For some reason, this text is coming out as gray. Weird, FFnet. WEIRD.**

**Also writing this chapter made me feel super cold. I guess that's what snow will do to you. XD I wish it snowed in Florida but, alas, today was eighty degrees. I wore jeans and nearly sweltered. WHY CAN'T I HAVE SOME COLD WEATHER TOO. SOB.**

**Okay, enough blubbering.**

**Enjoy~**

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><p>Twist whirled around. "Streak! Streak, I need you."<p>

She saw him weaving his way through the crowd, a white blur like snow. When he dropped to her side, gaping at the wound on Stripes' neck, he gasped. "What—"

"Not now. Later." She was intensely aware of the eyes on her. This did not bode well for her standing within the gang, this stranger among them. Bleeding or not, he was not one of them, and should have been ousted immediately.

Only Twist's interference had kept Lightfoot from ripping Stripes apart.

"Can you fix him?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Streak looked aghast. Behind him, Hazel pushed up through the crowd.

Panic lanced through Twist. _I can't let her know who this is. _Already her standing with Hazel was on unstable ground. It wouldn't take much to push her over the edge.

"I..." Streak blinked a few times, clearing his face of confusion. "Yes. But I need things. Herbs, bark, moss."

She turned and caught eyes with the first cat she saw: Adder. "Get them. Shot, Vega. With him."

Adder nodded. He vanished out the entrance without another word, the two others following him.

Stripes was heaving on the ground, trembling like a leaf. It wasn't a fatal blow but close. Blood spurted in little hiccuping bursts, spraying Twist's paws and the underside of her chin. She felt her fur wick it up like dry grass.

"They were low on the mountain," he said. "I only saw them because I was looking."

"You were watching out for us?" Twist didn't ask it gratefully; she was suspicious. "Why? What's our lives to you?"

It was a valid question. Stripes had the old code beaten into him just as much as Twist had. It could have skewed his brain. It had definitively altered Twist's.

"I owe you," he said, eyes glazed with pain. "A debt. I don't forget that. Not anymore."

Twist leaned close. Panic had made her reckless. Her breath was tight as a cord within her chest. "A mountain cat owes debts to no one," she hissed.

Behind Stripes' wide head, she could see Declan watching her. Out of everybody, he had remained calm. The others were whispering among themselves, speculating on this stranger and Twist's relationship to him, but Declan alone had remained quiet and still. The gang was a howling gale of voices around him, rising hackles and stalking paws, bitter suspicion as stark as poison in their eyes.

Stripes' blood tinged the air, metallic and sickening. Hazel leaned away from it, pressing her face into Kale's shoulder.

Stripes looked at Twist levelly. "I am no longer a mountain cat," he said. "Don't forget that."

Twist ground her teeth together.

Streak looked from Stripes to her, his eyes narrowed, but only slightly. "Twist?" His eyes, yellow like his father Viktor's, weren't those of a kitten. He was grown up now. An adult. All this time and she hadn't even noticed. He'd always been the little white kit to her, all big eyes and long legs. Now he'd reached the point of secret-keeping, of lies and deceit and hiding.

And she bitterly regretted it.

"This is my old gang leader, Streak," she whispered rapidly. "He lives alone in the mountains. He saw enemy cats coming for us and he tried to warn us. He is a hateful and vicious cat. So am I. We were raised together. No one can know who he is. You have to pretend you don't know."

Streak hesitated.

It didn't escape her entirely that Stripes was the reason Streak even had his name. He would have been Stripe, if not for her intervention on behalf of the cat bleeding out in front of her. Lucky hadn't known that about her then when he'd asked her to be Streak's guardian, her back-story, her heritage of blood and violence. He'd thought she was some normal alley cat, scrounging for food in another's territory. Not that she'd come from the bone-deep hatred of the mountain, where blood ran like water and loyalty was something to be scorned.

Twist leaned closer. Stripes' blood was strong in her nose, pungent as metal. It made her head spin with memories too dark to give voice to. "Streak. Please."

That did it. No more hesitation was in his face as he nodded. "You know I'd do anything for you, Twist. If you want this a secret, it'll be a secret. I promise."

Relief flooded through her. Briefly, she touched her nose to his shoulder. "Thank you."

Adder sprang back in the den, his mouth full of feathers. Behind him, Shot and Vega carried soaked moss and tattered fern leaves, long-dried from the cold-season's bite. The fronds were brown and crackling.

Streak took them gratefully, nodding once to his brother. Gingerly, he pressed a pawful of wet moss to Stripes' neck. Stripes held very still but his body was so tense that the tendons in his legs stood out like hard vines. Twist could see how it was affecting him, how tightly-reined in he was. His control was remarkable. But of course, stoicism was common as blood in mountain cat veins.

Streak mixed a few leaves in with the water to soften them. Clawing down the center, exposing the green juices, he laid them atop his paw. "It'll hurt," he warned.

"Doesn't matter," Stripes replied. "Do it."

Streak plastered the soaked leaves to the torn flesh of Stripes' neck. Stripes went tense all over, his lips curling up, exposing a bit of his teeth, but he didn't let a sound pass his lips. Admiration was in Streak's yellow eyes as he moved away to pick up another mouthful of the mash.

"Stripes," Twist said.

Gritting his teeth, Stripes began to speak quickly, his voice low and battered. "They came from the forest. I could smell leaves on their pelts. All of them sleek-furred and silky, dark pelts. Pets. I couldn't think of anything else but that they were no-pelt playthings. Some of them were wearing things around their necks. Some kind of ringing came from them."

"Collars," Twist said. "They mark a cat as a pet."

"Collars," Stripes echoed. "Well, they were wearing collars."

"And the cat in front?"

"Black with white paws. Green eyes. Red…collar."

Twist met Declan's eyes over the top of Stripes' head. "Blackjack."

Declan closed his eyes.

Blackjack meant trouble. He meant death. He'd already proven that he was willing to kill any cat who got in his way, who was marked with multicolored eyes.

And he'd somehow found out where they were going.

Twist pushed herself away from Stripes. She had to move. She had to pace. Movement meant something was still continuing, something was still happening. Back and forth, back and forth, her paws wore a dusty trail in the ground of the Old Stone.

The gang was watching her, waiting for her to say something. But the problem was, Twist had no clue what to say.

So she was direct.

Not stopping in her movements, she said, "We're going to be ambushed. Very, very soon. Watchers are coming up the mountainside. Blackjack is leading them."

Very alive panic came into Max's eyes. "To kill us."

"No. Not you. He doesn't want anything to do with you, unless you get in the way." She moved her gaze to the marked cats—Cascade and Vega, side by side like sisters, Shot, Felix, and Slash with pelts bristling, Petey watching with old, watery eyes.

Kaltag looked worse out of all of them; his whiskers were trembling.

"What do we do?" he whispered. "I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die," Lightfoot said harshly. She stalked to the front, making her suspicion of Stripes very apparent. "This is ridiculous. Why are you treating this as something it's not? Why are you thinking that this fool, this rat-hearted coward, this _Blackjack, _even knows where we are?" She tossed her head scornfully. "If he comes near us, I'll kill him. I've been wanting to, ever since he killed Jaybird. This gives me the chance I've been waiting for. My claws are in need of a new coat of blood. Why not with his?"

"Because we can't be stupid about this, that's why," Twist spat. "We can't attack them. They'll overwhelm us. How many did you see, Stripes?"

"Dozens." He swallowed tightly, a slight movement. "More than you. They'd crush you like an avalanche."

"I'm sorry," Lightfoot said, not sounding very sorry at all, "but who in the name of all that is good in this world are _you? _Who are you to be giving us recon?"

"This is my—" The words stopped in her throat. Stripes was not her _friend, _not by any stretch of the imagination. "He's an ally," she decided. "On our side."

Lightfoot's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "I don't think—"

"Lightfoot," Declan said, speaking up for the first time. His expression was very level still but Twist could sense the panic building in him. He could never fight it for long.

Lightfoot, surprisingly, bit her tongue and was silent.

"Stripes," Declan said, in that same even tone. "Where can we go where they can't find us? Surely there's places to hide around here. We should abandon this place for now and take shelter. When this blows over, we'll come up with a better game-plan."

_Perfect, _Twist thought. No wonder she hadn't seen it. The move itself was unorthodox. If Blackjack was looking for a fight—which she was nearly certain he was—he wouldn't find one. He wouldn't find anything. They'd clear out of here and leave the battles for the wind and snow.

Cascade said, "They'll only come after us again."

"Then we will have to hide again. Unless you have a better idea, Cascade."

Her ears flattened at Declan's smooth tone. With more temper in her tone, she spat, "I don't take orders from you. You're not Lucky. In fact, you're not even truly one of us. You were one of _them!_ How do we know you're not _still_ one of them?"

Twist felt the fur along her spine rile at once. It took everything in her not to lunge on Cascade and force her to eat those words—along with a good deal of her own teeth.

"Declan is not a Claw," she spat. "It has been seasons since then. He was tortured and brainwashed and polluted."

"Yes, but the thing about pollution is that it lingers around." Cascade's pale mixed eyes were hard. "He could still be a monster beneath it."

Twist was aghast, mute with fury.

But now Kaltag spoke up heatedly, more brave than he'd sounded in a long time. "I was one of them too, you know. Around the same time you were hiding like a little mouse in the Warren, too scared to even go outside. _I _got captured because I went to go find your little sister, do you remember, Cascade? Do you remember Melody?"

Cascade's pupils shrank to pinpoints. "Don't you _dare _mention my sister in front of me, you disgusting little—"

"I went out to find her because you asked me to! And because I was stupid enough to think you actually cared about her. Not the way everybody else did. Not the way I did…"

"You foul piece of garbage!"

"If you have something to say about it, go ahead. Call me every bad name you know. It's not very smart to use up your whole vocabulary in one sentence, Cascade."

Beyond words, Cascade let out a long, challenging yowl, extending her front claws until they curled on the ground. Kaltag, looking slightly mollified, sidestepped to Marco's side, but his eyes were shooting dagger glares at the she-cat.

"That is enough!" Twist shoved between them. "The enemy is out there, on their way. Or did you forget, you dunderheads?" Glaring between them, she said, "Blackjack wants you both dead. Keep it up, kill each other, and he's just got less bait. Maybe you can even solve the problem. Unless you actually want to keep living. Kaltag. Cascade?"

Cascade, her head below her shoulders, just hissed, "Keep him away from me."

Twist nodded. "Fine. Now. If we can get back to business. Cascade, keep your mouth shut from now on and we'll have fewer fights. Lightfoot, help her out, will you?"

Lightfoot turned greedy green eyes on Cascade, her expression alight with pleasure. "Absolutely. One toe out of line and we'll see how that pretty face looks in strips, won't we?"

Cascade must have been smarter than she looked, because her mouth snapped shut with a pop.

Declan said, "Let's move. Stripes, are you fine to walk?"

Stripes heaved himself to his paws, holding there shakily. A large chunk of the leaves fell off his neck and to the ground with a blood-spattering smack. "Let's just walk," he said, panting heavily already, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"You lead." Declan stepped aside, clearing a path to the mouth of the cave.

Stripes looked at it, something guarded in his face. "I did," he said. And then he walked.

XXXXXX

The wind tore at Twist's fur as they headed up the mountainside. Ice screamed down at an angle, slicing into every wind-bared patch of skin on her, forcing her whiskers into her eyes, her ears back against her head, her eyelids half-closed to protect her sensitive eyes.

Declan was nothing but a snow-streaked red blur at her side. Stripes was ahead, his haunches moving steadily. They'd been going hard for a long time now, deep into a snowstorm. It might have been night—it was difficult to tell through the howling gale that shredded at the small group, making them huddle closer together, not only for warmth but for balance. Only false step and a cat could go plummeting into the gray abyss just to the side of the rocky shelf they traversed.

Stripes had promised them safety on the other side of the mountain. But to get there, they had to be exposed on the mountainside for a few heart-hammering lengths.

He had been silent, only correcting their progress with a few terse words. He hadn't broken stride, hadn't shortened his pace or asked for any breaks.

But every few steps, Twist saw a drop of blood on the snow ahead of her, marking a path.

"We have to stop," she said.

"_What?" _Hazel, after some protesting, had taken up a position at Twist's shoulder; Kale was barely visible through the gale beside her, just a pair of very blue eyes with black pupils. Everything else was a snowstorm. "We've barely been walking!"

"And they have a clear trail." She motioned to the blood trail in front of her. "We have to patch up Stripes' neck more securely first."

Stripes turned at the sound of his name. He looked tired to the bone. Red ice clustered beneath his chin, sliding a trail down his chest and one foreleg.

"Just a short break," Twist said. "Streak."

But he was already there. Ice bristled on his whiskers and eyelashes, muting the brown stripes on his tail. He looked nearly identical to Kale this way, all white, but with sulfurous yellow eyes.

The leaves in his mouth were small and pathetic, hard with frost, but after a bit of chewing, they revitalized. Declan worked on the chewing while Twist prized off as much frozen blood as she could manage.

It pulled at Stripes' skin, breaking open the fresh scabs. New blood ran down into his white chest, dark red and thick with clots. The smell was the most alive thing in the center of this storm.

Stripes closed his eyes as she worked. The rest of the gang had formed a close knot around him, facing out, protecting him from the full force of the wind.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Twist, alarmed, responded automatically. "Don't apologize."

"I'm holding you up. You could be halfway across the mountain if I wasn't here."

"We wouldn't get halfway across the mountain without you."

"Yes, you could." His eyes were open, on her, as she tugged away a hardier piece of ice. "You know these mountains as well as I do."

She studiously ignored him. "Declan, I need the leaves now."

He was at her side already. Between him and Streak, they covered most of the wound at Stripes' neck with paws and teeth, plastering the heavy paste on top of the exposed veins. Within a heartbeat, it was sodden and dark with blood.

But Stripes was still talking.

"Leave me," he said. "Go on without me. You can make it. I'll be a distraction to them. They won't be able to resist the smell of blood."

"No," Twist growled.

Stripes' mouth twisted. "Do it! Or are you still a coward?"

Twist flattened her ears. "Leaving you is not an option."

"Because you think I'm salvageable?" He snorted. "I'm not. I'm a cold, hard, merciless cat. And if our positions were reversed, I'd leave you behind in a heartbeat. I'd have done it already."

A hot lick of anger flooded her throat. It burned even despite the freezing teeth of the storm biting into her.

Angrily, she looked up and caught eyes with Declan. "Do something!"

Along the stony path, Marco came running up. The poor thing was half-frozen, his fur sticking up in black-and-white spikes. "Twist, they're coming. I could smell Blackjack through the storm. And…others."

"Others," she repeated. She turned on him. "Who?"

Marco's orange eyes were half-lidded with anger. "Who do you think?"

Twist shook her head slightly. Whoever it could be fled from her mind. Stripes was too busy dominating her thoughts for her to even think of anybody else.

But Declan did.

He laughed once, a low, hollow sound. His eyes cut over to Twist, a thin line of bright green. "Dahlia."

Marco nodded silently.

_ Dahlia! _Any time hearing that name was a time too much. Where Twist had thought her gone, Dahlia had returned. Running with Blackjack now. Back to her conniving ways. She'd already worked her way within the Sliders. Now she was back playing her old games with her brother.

Hazel looked over at Twist, her breath a silver cloud in front of her. It hardly lived for a second before the wind snatched it away. "Who's Dahlia?"

Lightfoot laughed and laughed, throwing her head back and shouting into the storm. "Brat, it would take so long to explain and we do not have the time."

Hazel frowned severely. Kale at her side looked nervous, his throat working.

"We have to keep going," Declan said decisively. "Stripes, get up or we carry you. And if you won't be carried, we'll drag you. Once we get to the place you've promised, what you do with yourself is your own business. But until then, you're with us. Blood or not. Shot, you and Slash can hide our pawsteps; find branches, dead or not, it doesn't matter. Max, take this bloody moss and fake a trail. You know how. Meet us at the top of that ridge. Vega, you go with him. We'll be able to keep an eye on you because of your pelt. Cascade, you, Streak, and Marco can keep an eye out on Stripes. Walk alongside him so he doesn't fall off the edge. Hazel, Violet, Ren, you're with me and Twist. We'll lead the way onto the ridge. Pip, Kale, Felix, you're going to fall back and keep an eye out for that patrol. Gravel, Adder, Lightfoot, and Petey are coming to the ridge to help fight. Is that clear?"

Every cat nodded, enraptured by Declan's orders. Twist, standing at his side, couldn't imagine she could feel prouder of him than in that moment.

Declan looked at each of them in turn, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Let's go."

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><p><strong>My endings still suck. Bluuuuu. <strong>

**Now it's dinnertime. And then-**

**OH RIGHT.**

**I forgot to tell you guys: I am applying for an internship writing for Nickelodeon! I definitely won't get it but why not at least try, right? So I'm writing a spec script for Friendship is Magic, since that's the only thirty-minute-long current television show I watch, aside from The New Normal, and I don't really care to write a spec script for that. XD I'll let you guys know how it goes! Maybe I will be a fancy scriptwriter in Hollywood! XD**

**Anyway.**

**You know what to do!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	28. Flesh and Bone

**I just realized I haven't been doing reviewer replies. Sorry!**

**Guest - Ooh, you're right! And thank you for the critique! I do love getting critiques. :3 I shall go fix it right now!**

**Justsmile77 - Isn't it sad to not have snow? Tomorrow is supposed to be cold enough to get flakes up in the top of Florida, but I live more in the middleish part of it, so I don't think I'll see any, sadly. I also have to work outside tomorrow, so maybe snow wouldn't be the best idea anyway. XD**

**MyMaHatesBunnies - I love your penname! Very cute! XD Haha, oh wow, that's really repetitive, you're right. I get in the zone and kind of forget what I'm writing sometimes, I guess. Thanks for pointing it out!**

**GinnyStar - Thank you! I actually didn't end up doing it because I didn't get my script done in time, but I shall do it next year for sure! :D**

**tufted - Hee, thank you! Writing scripts is a special kind of pleasure for me. Lots and lots of dialogue without a lot of description. It's super easy-peasy!**

**chica13 - Thank you! Y'all are so kind to me. It gives me all the warm fuzzies. X3**

**Alrighty! Onto the story!**

* * *

><p>The mountain offered no shelter from the storm as Declan waited on the precipice. The wind caught his thick fur, curling it, tugging at his whiskers. Below him stretched an endless, yawning abyss. Behind was his group, his gang, or what was currently made of it. The rest were still hiding in the storm, following orders.<p>

His orders. The ones that could cost them their lives. The ones that could send them into a violent, brutal death at the paws of cats too strong to fight.

Outside, he was calm and cool as a windless lake. Inside, he was screaming.

But he couldn't let that show, not even to Twist. She could accidentally telegraph that to the rest of the group. Fear was allowable but panic was contagious. It would infect the entire gang and force them into bad choices with equally bad endings.

So instead, he would be Lucky. Remote. Detached. Placid. Intelligent.

And if he couldn't really be him, Declan would pretend as hard as he could.

The rocky ledge in front of them was opaque with falling snow. Declan kept his eyes trained on it, looking for any sign of the rest of his cats.

He'd thought by sending Vega with Max, he'd be able to see her bright ginger pelt. But the storm was too thick, the clouds encroaching. He could barely see the curving edge of the path leading up to this cliff, let alone anything beyond that. Vega might as well be snow-colored.

Declan ground his teeth together, trying to chew out an answer to this problem.

"Declan?"

He turned, expecting Twist, but got Hazel instead. The poor little thing, half-frozen and shivering, her whiskers bending beneath the weight of icy condensation from her breath.

Pushing every worry to the back of his mind, he turned towards her, feeling that usual bloom of warmth within his chest. "Hazel."

She stepped towards him, looking curiously lopsided without Streak next to her. Or Kale, he supposed. Yes, it must be Kale who was missing from her. "When will they return?"

That was right. He had sent her young mate out into the storm. Fighting for cats he didn't know and who didn't like him.

Declan sighed heavily. "Soon. I hope. Night is falling."

Hazel came and sat down next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder. She definitely favored her mother, all thin legs and small face with big eyes. Those eyes were what cost her this trouble in the first place. If she'd been blue-eyed or green, she could have had a normal life. It was a shame that something as simple as a uniqueness in her eyes would cause so much pain.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the path ahead. "We could die."

There was no point lying to her. "We could," he said, dipping his head once.

"What happens then?"

Twist's voice in his head, bitter and dry, said _Then we're dead. _Aloud, he said, "I'm not sure. Something, I think. My mother used to say that when I was younger. Something beyond. A sea."

"What's a sea?"

"It's a big patch of water so far across you can't see. Salty. Full of fish and bigger things. It's dangerous, though. But the sea my mother spoke of wasn't like that. I always imagined it as calm, like a lake, but deeper blue. Across that is where everyone who loves you is waiting. When you die, they come for you and take you to the other side."

Hazel had a thoughtful look on her face, her mouth tensed. "What's there?"

"Love."

"That's all?" she asked dubiously.

Declan laughed. Brushing her ears with his muzzle, he said, "What more could you want?"

"I don't know. No hunger or something. Or sleeping just for fun. Or running and not getting tired. Something like that."

"Very practical."

"Well, you don't know what's across the sea, so why is your guess better than mine?"

"Little spitfire, huh," Declan said affectionately.

Hazel put back her ears. "Yeah, well. I have a good role model for that."

"Like mother, like daughter."

"I'm not her daughter. My mother left me with Twist. And my father's dead."

Declan felt a twinge of something in his chest. "She didn't abandon you, Hazel. She had to go."

"Nobody told me why. Why did she leave me? Didn't she want me?"

"Don't be like this." Declan bundled her close into his chest, resting his muzzle on top of her head. "I want you. I love you. Twist loves you, too, and you love her, you stubborn little mouse, as much as you like to protest."

Hazel allowed herself to be cuddled only for a moment before she pulled away, her fur fluffed up around her shoulders. She put her gaze back on the horizon.

Declan followed suit, amused in a sort of detached way. After all, he still had lives counting on him. He could allow himself to forget about them for only a few minutes before he had to think about them once more. Worry gnawed at his insides. It was a constant ache in the back of his head, those faces, those voices, those lives beneath his care.

_So this is what Lucky feels like, _he thought. _No wonder he doesn't show any emotion._

"You know I love you too, right?" Hazel said indifferently, her eyes fixed decidedly on the path ahead.

Declan felt that bloom of warmth once more. Chuckling once beneath his breath, he said, "Yes, I know."

"Good. Now let's never say it again."

"I make no promises."

"Declan, why aren't they back yet?" Marco stalked up next to him, breaking the peaceful quiet between him and Hazel. "It's been too long."

"They had a long walk to backtrack. They'll be here soon."

Marco looked doubtful. "We should double back and send a new party to find them."

"We don't have the resources for that."

"Then send Lightfoot. Anyone who gets in her way can be left for the crows to peck at."

"Just be patient, Marco. I know you're worried but—"

"I'm not _worried," _Marco said, spitting out the words between clenched teeth. "I'm _terrified. _Max is out there, you know."

"I know," Declan said, surprised at his vehemence. Marco was always a tightly-drawn young cat, prone to keeping to himself. Max was the only thing that brought out any color in him.

"You sent him," Marco said. "He could die."

"We could all die, Marco. You knew that when you signed on. You wanted the glory of this, remember."

"I didn't sign on for glory. I signed on for—" He cut off quickly, his jaw working like he was chewing. The green of his eyes burned into Declan. "Send me out to find them. Send me out alone. I'll go by myself if no one wants to follow."

Declan thought to himself, _Be patient. _Marco was young and hot-headed. Maybe it could be cooled with a bit of persuasion.

"Wait until nightfall," he said gently, laying his tail-tip on the younger cat's black shoulder. "If they're not back, I'll go with you."

Marco glowered at him a moment longer. "Nightfall?"

"Nightfall," Declan promised. "No longer."

After a short pause, Marco spun around and walked back to the rest of the small group, stopping next to where Twist sat close to Stripes, her head bent to his.

Declan watched them with a kind of stomach-curling unease. Stripes had been an uncommon topic between him and Twist but it had still occurred. He knew the suffering she'd endured at the old gang leader's paws. He was the reason she feared the shadows, that and her father. In Declan's eyes, they were both an enigmatic terror, something to be feared, not pitied.

But of course, everything was feared in Declan's mind. Everything could be a weapon if the right cat had a mind to use it.

Declan left his perch to Ren to be lookout and went to the scrape of wind-blocked shelter Violet and Streak had created in the snow bank.

Lightfoot was already there, her eyes narrowed to slits the color of torn moss. She looked up as he entered. "Orders?" she asked, rising.

He waved her down with one travel-stained paw. "None. Waiting. That's the order." With a sigh, he settled down onto his belly, relieving some of the stress in his sore legs. It felt good to lie down, even briefly.

Lightfoot watched him, her eyes inscrutable as ever. Only rage and bloodlust ever put light into those eyes. "You can't sleep. You'll look weak."

"I am weak."

"You're the leader now. You can't afford to look weak, especially this far from home. And at the rate you're driving us, cats will begin to question you."

Declan sighed. He hadn't wanted a lesson. He'd wanted a few moments of peaceful quiet to soothe his aching mind. "What should I do, in your opinion?"

Lightfoot said, "Go back out there and keep watch."

"While everybody wanders around?"

"We don't have the luxury of wandering around. If the bleeding cat doesn't heal up or die, we're going to be raven bait. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep my heart beating."

"Stripes," Declan reminded her temperately. "He has a name."

"Stripes," Lightfoot said, but her voice was full of scorn. "He's a goner. We should leave him behind now and move on without him. The trail you had the earless one leave will fool only the stupidest noses. Blackjack is no fool. He knows the scent of old blood. It's not as preferable."

"As what?" Declan asked tiredly.

Lightfoot's eyes glittered in the half-light of the weak, watery sun. "Fresh blood," she said, her voice a reverent whisper.

Declan chuckled, only a little off-put by her usual instability. He'd be more concerned if she were acting sane. "You'd be a force to fear if you weren't on our side, Lightfoot."

"If you were smart, you'd still fear me."

"I don't. I think you're not as harsh as you say. I don't think you'd ever harm a Slider unless they did something first. Breaking our rules."

Lightfoot watched him for another moment, looking faintly amused. "You are either the kindest or stupidest cat I have ever met, Declan."

"Probably both," he said.

"Self-deprecation becomes you."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment." But she sighed all the same, moving a bit closer. Her pelt was warm as banked fire to his chilled skin. "I'll lend you my shoulder, but only for a few moments. Don't think anything deep into this. A frozen leader is a dead leader is a useless leader. I can't lead. I need a leader."

"You could be a leader," Declan said, his eyes falling heavily half-closed.

Lightfoot scoffed. "Me? Never. I'm too smart."

The biting wind was what made it so unbearably cold. Here out of its claws, it was almost nice. It reminded him of his own housefolk, how they had kept the inside of their house cold during all seasons. He had slept in front of the wind-source and let it push back his whiskers, freezing his face more and more until he couldn't even feel it, the cold that had gone so deeply into him that it chilled his very bones, deadened his skin, made his eyes dry as sunbaked sand…

Declan awoke with a start as Lightfoot stood. His body was still heavy with sleep, his eyes half-stuck with frost and sleep.

"Up, up," Lightfoot said, her voice more strained than usual. "I smell blood."

"Stripes," he said, voice thick. Lightfoot's face came swimming into view. Her eyes were hard and the set of her mouth was grim.

"No," she said. "Fresh blood." This time, there was no awe in her voice. Without waiting for him, she left the scrape to join the others, her pelt blending half into the snow.

Licking his dry, cracked lips, Declan jerked to his paws and headed outside.

It was a mess of scrambling bodies outside. Night had fallen now, heavily as it ever did in the mountains. The walls of the cavernous abyss were black with shadow, cutting long lines down into oblivion. Even piling snow couldn't fill that yawning mouth.

And everywhere was the tang of blood.

Declan pushed past Ren and Violet, vying to the front of the tangled pack of legs and tails. "What's going on?" he demanded, and at once, Marco was in his face.

"You said you'd let me go!" he screamed, his expression beyond fury. "You said you'd let me go get him! Now look at him! _Look, _you revolting piece of—"

Lightfoot tackled him easily to the ground, her long legs keeping her face and chest out of the way of his splaying claws. "Down, boy," she said, her tone flat as ever, even as her teeth flashed with moonlight. "You'll put someone's eye out."

Marco shrieked his fury up at her, wordless with something beyond anger.

With dread, Declan looked out around the wrestling pair.

Vega was lying over a limp bundle of fur, her own stained darker red with blood. One of her ears was gone, replaced with an uneven ridge of torn flesh. Her eyes were half-closed as her breath struggled in her chest. The sound was wrong, terribly wrong, something heaving and hissing. Declan could see blood bubbling in her nostrils.

"Ambush," she said, her voice thin. "Didn't see…them coming... Too many… Blackjack, he…" She had to stop to take several heaving gasps of air, her mouth open too wide. Declan could see more blood coating the roof and back of her mouth.

"Shh," Cascade said, stroking her friend's face with the tip of her plumy tail. It was quickly sodden with blood, so Cascade switched to a gentle paw. "Don't try to speak."

But Vega didn't listen. "He's coming," she said, her eyes fixing on Declan. "He's…coming. He's…" The light left her eyes abruptly then, clouding over with something unknown to Declan, something as dark and archaic as the abyss they were standing over.

Cascade bowed her head, hiding her face from view. Twist, standing nearby, looked stricken.

"She died carrying him back," Streak said. Declan hadn't even seen the young tom until he spoke. Hazel was leaning heavily on his shoulder, her horror-dulled eyes fixed on Vega's prone body. "She…she brought him home to us."

Not wanting to believe it, Declan looked to the white fur.

He wanted to believe Max was okay. He wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay.

"Declan," Twist said. She was suddenly at his side, quick and unnoticed as a dream. "He's still alive."

Declan wanted to say, _No. No, Twist, he's not, _because nothing could be that bloodstained and torn and still live, but he was. Max's thin sides rose and fell with shallow breath. Beneath his long-scarred ears, his eyes twitched beneath their lids. A scratch sent blood running over his muzzle.

Marco approached him slowly, curving his body to his friend's. "Max."

Max, so slowly, opened his eyes. They were green-flecked, like his brother Flint's. It was the only similarity between them.

"Blackjack," he said. The word was a croak.

"We know," Marco said, his tone strained. He was staring at Max like he couldn't look away. "Max, you're going to be okay."

Max didn't say anything to that. He looked up at Declan, a fresh wave of blood spreading out from him at the movement. The soft flesh of his pale throat had been cut. It turned his white fur into a sopping, bloody mess of cut skin and torn fur.

Declan turned and looked at Streak. There had to be something that could be done. There had to be some way to fix this. Max couldn't die. Vega had risked her life to bring him back. Max could not die.

Slowly, Streak shook his head. Hazel buried her head in his shoulder.

Declan turned back to Max.

He was barely clinging to life. By his claws. Such a tenuous hold on something so precious.

"Marco," he said.

"I'm right here," Marco said, leaning closer.

Max swallowed, then coughed. Blood flecked the snow. "I… I have to tell you… I…" The words couldn't make it past his torn throat. He tried again. "I…"

Marco closed his eyes. "I know," he said at last, with anguish. "I know. Me too, Max. Me too."

And Declan looked away, down to his own paws, away from this. They deserved their privacy. They deserved so much more than this. Dying in the snow. Being parted like this.

"There's somebody coming!" Violet howled.

Declan wrenched away from his position at the same time Lightfoot and Streak did, with Ren and Twist just behind. They formed a wall of bodies, blocking the approaching cat from the rest of the group.

"Who's there?" Declan bellowed out into the storm. The wind caught his words, bouncing them back to him, ripping them from his mouth. Snow swirled past his nose, settling on his whiskers. "Announce yourself now or I swear we will attack!"

Hazel let out a rasping, hollow gasp. _"It's_ _Kale!" _Without another word, she bounded past them.

Lightfoot seized her by the back of the neck like a kitten and swung her around, planting Hazel directly behind her.

"Wait," she ordered.

Hazel strained against her but obeyed, if only just. Her eyes sought out through the snow.

Declan did, too. He could see an approaching figure from across the abyss, a cat outlined in white. Long-legged and tall.

Pale as milk but splashed with blood, he came, favoring a paw. "It's me! It's Kale!" he called out, his voice echoing a thousand times, mocking him with his own name. _Kale! Kale! Kale!_

Hazel let out a gasp that was half joy and half relief. Lightfoot, so stunned by the young tom's appearance, loosed her hold on Hazel and let her go. She sprang across the snow like a bird, running to Kale's side.

Twist yowled, "Come back!" Her voice was explosively loud in Declan's snow-softened ears. "Hazel! Right now!"

And Hazel did, her legs shaking with relief. Twist and Declan went out to meet them most of the way, stopping on the edge of the drop.

Kale was soaked with blood on his sides but looked mostly untouched. The tip of his ear was nicked and there was a scratch along his flank, but most of the blood seemed to be others'.

"Kale," Declan said. "What happened? Where are Pip and Felix? Where are Shot and Slash?"

Kale bowed his head and Declan knew he had his answer.

Ren came padding up with Violet next to him. "Is it true?" he demanded. "Is my brother dead?"

"He died protecting me," Kale said, swaying on his feet. Hazel leaned into him for support. "He went to the stars as a hero, I promise you."

Ren didn't look like he believed it. Jaws clenched, he said, "Did he land a few on Blackjack at least? Is the Black Terror dead?"

Kale shook his head. "He lives. He's coming here."

Ren nodded, mostly to himself. "Then I'm the last," he said. "Ink was first, in the battle with the Claws. And now Pip. At least it was a good death. At least he's with Ink now. Ink will protect him. He was the oldest you know. He will—" He stopped abruptly with a choking noise.

Violet, at his side, put her muzzle against his and closed her eyes. "You are not alone," she said firmly.

Ren closed his eyes, looking ages older, and was silent.

"How did you get away?" Lightfoot demanded. Behind her, Streak was tending to Max, who was still heaving for breath. If anything, he had moments, and Declan did not want to ruin them with any poorly-chosen words. "You're not even hurt."

Kale winced. "Pip saved me. Blackjack was going to kill me. He said he was coming for us, that we would all be dead soon. He found us first. When he saw Felix's eyes, he went straight for him. Pip leapt up to stop him and another got him, a white tom with a big scar across his chest. After Felix died, Pip told me to run, and I did. A she-cat did this to me when I tried to escape." Kale's eyes wandered to where Vega lay motionless and Max struggled to keep breathing. "Stars above," he whispered through unmoving lips. "Are we all going to die?"

"No," Twist said strongly. "We are not."

Declan pushed past the grief that threatened to choke him. "Shot and Slash," he said. "What happened to them?"

"There are two groups of cats. As I ran away, I saw them fighting another group. Shot took out two others before they managed to pin him down. Slash was already dead when I saw him. Somebody had opened up his throat." Abruptly, Kale collapsed to his hindquarters, breathing erratically. His eyes were bugged out and staring. "So much blood," he said, gasping. "The snow was melting from the warmth of it."

Feeling sick, Declan said, "We have to thank the stars you made it back to us," he said, but Kale didn't seem to be listening.

Streak padded up, paws wet with blood. "He's gone," he said dully, flicking his tail to Max. "Just fell asleep. Marco's with him but we need to bury them if we're going to. We have to get moving."

Twist's head went down, her eyes closed painfully. Declan wanted nothing more than to curl into her fur and forget the world but he knew he had more to do first. He had to be a leader.

He stepped forward and saw Lightfoot's gleaming eyes catch his. _Rage or bloodlust, _he thought again, planting his paws. _Maybe both this time._

"Everybody," he said, his voice dry from cold and heartache. "We have suffered a great loss today. Vega. Shot. Slash. Felix. Pip. Max." The last name stuck in his throat, hurting on the way out. "But they did not die in vain. If we give in, if we let Blackjack will, their spirits will never rest properly. We owe them our lives because they lost their own. Today, we will bury them, remember them, mourn them. And tomorrow, we march on, to the other side of the mountain, to where there is a life for us. That is what we _will _do. What we _won't _do is lose another life. I refuse. I refuse to let anybody else die on my watch." He looked at them; Lightfoot, alert and tense; Hazel watching him with warm love in her eyes; Streak with his head bowed, not making eye contact; Marco, so lost in grief that he looked half-gone himself; and Twist, looking at him so intently that he felt her strength bleed into his bones, warming him from the inside out. "We _will _live and we _will _reach the other side of the mountain. I will stake my own life on it. If you will follow me."

At first, nobody said anything. Then, just as before, Adder strode forward first. His head was bowed, his fur ruffled up against the wind. The tang of Max's blood was on him. "I will follow you," he said. "I pledged my life to it."

"I will, too," Kaltag said, not looking nervous for once. Behind him, Petey echoed his words, and Gravel, and Iggy.

Cascade, after a pause, nodded once, a jerk of motion.

Violet said, "You're the best leader we could have, Declan." Ren said nothing, only stared at his paws, his mouth at a tense set. His legs were trembling.

"I will," Hazel said.

"I will," Kale said, sounding bone-weary. Streak, tending to his wounds, nodded his agreement, as did Lightfoot, though hers was accompanied by a sharp-toothed baring of teeth.

Declan looked to all of them, feeling it strengthen him. Through all of his failings, they would still follow him. Despite the fact he had asked them all to die for each other, that the marked cats they had protected for so long now numbered four instead of eight, that two bodies lay in the snow in front of them and four more were alone somewhere on the mountain, they would follow him.

Twist padded up to him and touched her nose to his. It was cold and chapped but the look in her eyes was anything but remote. "To the ends of the earth," she whispered, just for him. "Until we're both dead, I will follow you, Declan."

Declan pushed his muzzle against hers, letting this tiny moment expand and expand, growing inside him until it burst through his ribs and sent heat through his frigid muscles.

"Okay," he said, pulling away from her. "Then let us begin."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, if this seems different, it might be because I just finished reading <span>A Game of Thrones<span> by George R R Martin and I fell in love with his writing style. Aaaaah, he killed off two of my favorites but I still love him?! WHYYYYY?!**

**I have to read all of them now. It's not really voluntary. I, like, HAVE to. **

**But I can't tomorrow because I have to work and sobsobsobsob I have to wait for like two days to buy it. I'm going to go crazy in the meanwhile. ARGH.**

**Okay, enough angst. XD**

**You know the routine!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	29. Know and Doubt

**Hey, y'all! It's been awhile, huh? Sorry about that. Work, school, family problems. These are the bad things for writing, unfortunately.**

**On the plus side, I finally got some time off from work to just lay around in my jammies all day long. I cannot tell you how amazing that feels, man. I am in jammy bliss. Also I got to go to the Georgia Aquarium and see the whale sharks this past weekend and hang out in Atlanta, which is a pretty nice city in its own right, I guess. I prefer Savannah, though. XD**

**Anyway, onto the story!**

* * *

><p>Stripes' yellow eyes were bright with fever. The corners were matted with caught fur and crust from his running eyes. The smell from his wound, festering on his shoulder and chest, was like wind off of carrion. The edges of it were dark with dried blood, frozen drops clinging to the edge. Streak had packed it tight with snow, freezing the skin closed, but some blood managed to escape with every swing of Stripes' limping stride.<p>

Twist walked alongside him, silently watching him. She was half-convinced he'd be dead by sunset, but she'd thought the same the night before, and the one before that, and he still held on.

_He didn't even want to come with us, _she thought, narrowing her eyes. _He wanted to die alone. Now he's stuck with us, whether he likes it or not._

Nothing could be done about his wound without any herbs up in the mountain. Snow had killed every sparse bit of grass, so they couldn't even pack it. The best Streak had been able to do was licking off the blood every night when they stopped and every morning when they woke.

But it wouldn't be long before he was dead. And the rest of them along into the darkness.

But even despite everything, despite the three days between now and the death of half their number, they kept on. The top of the mountain was within sight, a shroud of gray clouds surrounding it, blocking the peak from view. They looked dark and stormy, full of the promise of more snow.

As if they needed more, Twist thought as they trudged uphill, legs dead from strain and exhaustion. A whole youth spent in the mountains and now her adulthood, too. It would never let her loose from its claws. Not its memory and now not even the physical mountain itself.

It had been long past the half-moon meeting with Lucky and the other Sliders. Twist had nearly forgotten about it in the first place.

_Is he worrying about us? _she found herself wondering as they picked across another abyss, the plummeting shadows transfixing her for a few heartbeats before she could calm her racing heart. _Has he sent someone to look for us?_

Probably not. Lucky was smart—smarter than any cat she'd ever met. He would have smelled the blood and noticed the silence. The Watchers were on the move: chasing them down like dogs after rabbits.

_Rabbits from a Warren. _Twist chuckled to herself at the thought of it.

"What's funny?" Lightfoot asked hoarsely. Frost stuck her whiskers together, highlighting the almost painful green of her eyes. "What could possibly be funny right now?"

"Nothing," Twist answered truthfully. She stepped around a jutting, massive rock, heavy with collected snow. It was as tall as she was and four times as wide. Across from her, Violet walked delicately behind Ren, who plowed through with his broad shoulders. All Cascade's beautiful silver fur was slicked back by snow, until she looked dark and bony as Iggy. "Just thinking."

Lightfoot gave her a disbelieving look but didn't push it. Her morals might have been shady but her tact was not.

Twist asked, "Don't you just…go away and think while you're walking?"

"No." Lightfoot's jaw set. "I think about all the cats I want to kill. Anger keeps me warm."

"Like who?"

"Who do you think?" Lightfoot asked scathingly, giving Twist a withering look. "The Claws. Dahlia. The Black Terror." She said the words sarcastically, so much so that it sounded singsongy. "I'd love so sink my claws into that cat's hide. Wonder if he's as yellow on the inside. Perhaps I'll be able to find out. Maybe I'll just double back and see if I can—"

"You won't be doubling-back," Declan said, not even turning around. Shoulders hunched against the snow, he looked remote as the mountaintop.

Twist knew better. She knew his nightmares returned during his sleep. Every night he cried out. Every night she pressed close to him, whispering to him, but her words were nothing but dead things. Nothing stopped his terrors. Not even her. It made her feel useless, like she couldn't even do something this simple for the cat she loved more than anything. Like she was perfectly worthless.

Lightfoot put back her ears. "I didn't say I _would. _I just said I might."

Declan said, "We're a team. Don't forget that. If you go back, you abandon your team. Your family. Only cowards do that."

Curling her lip, Lightfoot spat, "I'm no coward."

"Prove it." That was it. A challenge.

Lightfoot smoothed out her lip. Twist knew she couldn't resist a challenge, not even a simple one like that. Keeping her silence, Twist moved on, shoulder to shoulder with the violent she-cat, turning her thoughts inward on warmer, safer days.

It seemed that the Warren had done more harm than good. It had made her forget the hardness of living in the mountains, of that harsh life she'd clawed out for herself with her old gang. Her paws had softened, her pelt thinned, her mind weakened. Before, she could scrape out anything from the mountain—prey or water or shelter. She'd melted frost with her breath and licked it from stones. She'd eaten worms and bugs from beneath turned rocks. She'd slept beside her mother in a rabbit hole so tight she could hardly breathe.

Now her body ached from the constant cold, beating in time with her headache. The ice on her pelt had seemingly sunk into her lungs, turning each breath razor-sharp as claws.

It wasn't going well for anyone else either. Already one of Petey's paws had turned hard and black and unfeeling, and judging by the looks Streak was giving him, it wasn't a good sign that the pain had stopped. Adder had developed a cough that racked his body at night when they made tiny, sparse camps, and Twist was afraid it would spread to them all.

_Is this the fate you've given me? _Twist thought, eyes up on the cloud-blocked stars. Even if it were clear, she doubted she would see them this early in the day. Or was it night? Time seemed to not exist anymore. _Is this why you brought me down the mountains, to these cats? Just so I can lead them back up into the stones to death?_

Declan led them for so long Twist lost track. She judged time not by the hour but by the throbbing of her heavy paws, the ache in her back, the drops of blood that fell from Stripes' wounded neck. Cascade and Marco brought up the rear, obliterating any tracks they created with a luxury: a piece of tangling, knotted grass Kaltag had worked into a mat. They held it between their mouths like prey, dragging it along with travel-dead eyes. Marco seemed to feel nothing since Max's death, not even pain. Twist had watched him fall and nearly sprain his paw and get up without even a twitch of his whiskers.

_It's hard, _she thought, _when a cat you love dies. _She didn't think she'd be able to handle it if Declan died. Her mother had told her once that cats whose souls were connected felt the pain of separation when one of the pair died. Perhaps it would be that way with her and Declan. At times it felt as if there were a knotted bit of cord connecting the two of them, stretching invisibly between their chests. When Declan looked at her a certain way or spoke gentle words, she could feel the cord shorten.

When he screamed at night, locked into nightmares Twist couldn't rescue him from, the cord loosened.

_I am losing him, step by step, _she thought, watching his back. He was so strong now, but he'd sacrificed almost everything to keep himself that way. He had to be a leader now. Declan the leader came before Declan the mate. Her eyes cut to Hazel, standing so close to Kale they were touching. _Or Declan the father, _she thought, because Declan was undoubtedly Hazel's father. It was her stance with the young she-cat that was so misty and gray. Whatever Twist had done or not done, it had only served to push Hazel away, so much so that she hardly even spoke to Twist anymore. Now her head was full of thoughts of Kale.

Kale was another factor of uncertainty. Twist didn't trust him a whisker-width. Claw blood was enough for her to hold a grudge—it could spark to a flame any second. She knew, because in her veins ran darkness, and it had certainly proved true before.

_But I am strong enough to hold, _she told herself as they rounded a corner, up into a stone bluff. The wind wasn't as strong here. It didn't yank at her fur or tear her whiskers. _Is Kale?_

"We'll stop here for tonight," Declan said, finally turning around. Twist felt a bit of ice in her chest melt when his eyes met hers, steady and green as a sea of grass. "Everybody dig in."

The group parted to find suitable shelter—Marco and Cascade used their sheet of tangled grass to block the wind from Stripes, who was lying on his side, exhausted. Streak stood over him, fur frozen into strips, and began to lick the blood from the older tom's throat.

Twist went to Declan. Declan dipped his head and rested his nose in the thick fur of her neck, closing his eyes. A purr ran through her body, vibrating through her bones at his touch. "You did well today," she said, voice low so no one would overhear.

Declan sighed against her fur. "I did the best I could."

"Your best is what any cat could ever ask for." She pulled back to look at him, more closely than she had in a few days. Tiredness tugged at the corners of his eyes, his mouth, lining his face. He looked thinner than before, more gaunt, less the cat who could always win a begrudging laugh out of her and more one who let horrors choke the light out of him. "You should get some rest," she said. "You need sleep."

Declan nuzzled her neck. "I've had enough sleep. I'm first watch."

"Some other cat can have first watch."

But he just sighed and drew away from her. "No, it's my duty. My job. I'm the leader, remember." He touched her chin with the tip of his tail, warmth in his eyes. "Don't wait up for me."

Twist set her jaw. There was nothing to be done when Declan made up his mind. Unfortunately, he'd seemed to have picked that up from her.

A few moments later, she was lying down next to Lightfoot, tucked into the larger she-cat's flank. Lightfoot wasn't sleeping, but waiting, her eyes glowing in greenish slits. Her body was tense as a string of spider silk. On Twist's other side was Streak, who was finished tending to Stripes. When he lay down with a great release of breath, Twist could smell the blooming, hard scent of blood on him.

"How is he?" Twist asked quietly.

The look Streak gave her answered her question thoroughly enough but he still said, "Bad. I'm surprised he's still standing."

"Perhaps Braiser was right about mountain blood," Lightfoot said without turning around.

Twist felt a spike of resentment stab through her at the mention of her father. "Perhaps," she said coldly.

Stripes didn't even seem to notice. "He can't go on like this. Not if he wants to live longer than another night or two." He sighed, the sound tight and frustrated. "I don't know what to do."

"You've done what you can," Twist said. "It's up to Stripes now."

"No, it's up to gravity. Every step he makes, his heart pumps faster. At this rate of speed, he'll be drained dry by the time we touch paw on the opposite side of this mountain." Streak looked down at his paws, which were stained with old, dried blood. "Flint would know what to do."

"Flint's not here. You are."

"More pressure on my shoulders."

Twist gave him a sharp look. "Declan has the most pressure. Your weight's not the hardest to bear."

Characteristically, Streak just nodded at her harsh tone. "I know," he said. "But it's still mine." He was quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting. As they always did, they landed on Hazel, tucked up against Kale's pale side. She was sleeping in her usual way, curled tight in a ball, her tail over her nose. Streak's eyes were very soft as he watched her for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a silent sigh.

Twist allowed his musing for a moment longer before asking, "What do you think we should do?"

"You're asking me?" He turned back, looking faintly surprised. "You're the adult."

"You're a full-grown tom now, Streak. You have a right to an opinion. And you're the smartest in healing in this gang."

Streak laughed once, but the sound was bleak. "Not much to go by, though, is it? You're all fighters. Well, half of you. Half of us were too young to know the difference between Claw and Slider. It's just stories to us. Well," he said again, "it was. Now it's real."

"Don't be pessimistic."

"Isn't there a difference between pessimism and realism?" he asked dubiously.

Twist tapped him on the head with a paw. "Cheeky brat."

Streak looked amused. "See? I'm not a full-grown tom. Not when you're around."

"I'm your guardian. I have full rights to smack you any time I want."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, lying his head on his paws, so close his flank brushed hers beneath this outcropping of rock. "So I've been told."

Twist touched her muzzle to the warm fur between his ears. _He's older but he's still my little favorite, _she thought, closing her eyes. _He'll always be a little brat but he's my little brat._

The night passed in sporadic bursts of paranoia. Every noise and twitch in the night was a cat ready to kill. Every flash of light from a wayward cloud or distant lightning was the gleam of moonlight on claws ready to tear. Twice Twist leapt to her paws, heart in her throat, half-expecting the Watchers to pour in over the ridge like smoke.

She wasn't the only one. Lightfoot was restless beside her, even when she overtook Declan's watch. The silver silhouette of her, perched on top of a knuckle of granite, was comforting to Twist. No cat stood before Lightfoot as an enemy and lived. She knew that. But still, the nightmares persisted, well into the patchy darkness of mountain night.

Twist had finally found a comfortable position, her paws draped over Declan's, her cheek pressed into his chest, when a cat screamed.

The ground was beneath her paws before she even realized she was awake. And she was running, not towards the sound like a good Slider would, but away, far away, the only thought in her head _Survive, survive, survive, _as if she were a true mountain cat again and not a loyal fighter and friend to those around her. Halfway out of the outcropping, she stopped herself, digging her claws into the ground, forcing her eyes open to the darkness, to the shadows, and she thought, _I am not any better than before. _

When she turned back, mind recollected from the terror, there was chaos.

Marco had his teeth bared at Adder, shoving the other cat back, his claws extended. They cut fine lines across the new-fallen snow. It wasn't even light outside yet; the night still had claim over this land, muting the colors into shadows and white, overwhelming white.

Except the spots of blood that stained the ground.

"What is going on?" Twist thundered, shoving her way to the front, past where Ren and Violet stood, looking stunned. "Marco, have you completely lost your mind?"

It certainly looked like he had. His eyes were huge and wild in his face, the white circles around them making them stand out starkly against the black fur. "Yes," he said. "Apparently. Since I'm the only one who doesn't want to follow _him!" _He jerked his chin towards Declan. "He left Max and the others to die. He didn't care about us. We're expendable, you know."

Twist riled at once. Fur standing up on her spine, she spat, "If I recall correctly, you volunteered for this position. You could have said no." _And let Max come by himself, _she thought, but didn't say that out loud. The young tom's name would be nothing but venom to Marco right now.

Marco set his jaw. "You only want to follow him because you have to. The others chose to. I'm sure I'm not the only one with doubts. Am I?" He looked around at the other cats.

Twist did too, looking for smug triumph. To her shock, she saw some had their eyes on their paws, not glancing up at her or Declan, who was standing behind her. "Well, come on now," she said. "Don't everyone speak up at once."

Adder, panting and bleeding from a scratch on his mouth, said, "Declan is the best leader we could have. He's doing everything he can."

_Good, _she thought. _One._

Hazel snarled from Kale's side. "Why don't you try leading a bunch of cats, Marco? Since you've got such strong opinions, maybe you can back them up."

But Iggy, who had been silent and strong throughout the whole journey, let out an uneasy grumble. He shuffled from paw to gray paw. "Losing those cats was hard. Not everybody…agrees with a loss like that, you know."

"It wasn't Declan's fault!" Twist hissed.

"Maybe if you let some cats speak without cutting them off, you'd understand us better," Gravel said, not unkindly. But anything other than support from the old gray tom was a slap in the face.

Twist, mutinous, held her tongue.

Every cat was looking at him, so Gravel went on. "We knew the dangers of coming up into the mountains. I'm not even…you know…one of you." He motioned to his eyes with one paw. "And I knew the danger. I accepted it, because I'm a fighter. That's what I do. I fought through the Claws in their camps and I fought in the battle on the hillside. I've fought my whole life. Lousy Claws never let up when I was a new Slider."

Out of the corner of her eye, Twist saw Kale shuffle uneasily from paw to paw.

"But I was never a leader," Gravel said in his low voice. His yellow eyes glanced from cat to cat. "I knew that. I need someone to tell me what to do, where to go, who to fight. I'm just a pair of claws on my own. I need a guide. My leader Lucky told me to follow Declan, and I'll pull out my own teeth before I defy his orders. So should the rest of you."

"You want us to follow him because Lucky said so?" Marco asked incredulously. "Well, Lucky's not here, is he?"

Cascade said bitterly, "We have no leader. Declan wasn't even born a Slider."

"You were a Claw for many, many moons," Gravel reminded her. "You fought for them. You gave your sons to them."

Cascade bared her teeth. "Out of brainwashing. Not of my own volition. And if you'll recall, my sons are dead now, Gravel. What do you have to say to that?"

"That that's a poor, shameful waste of life. But Declan is not responsible for your sons. He is responsible for you. We can't help your kits now but we can save your friends. So turn some of that rage towards them and we'll have ourselves a powerful ally. I've seen what you can do." He shifted a bit, nudging his chin down a scar on his chest.

Cascade flinched. "I thought you'd forgotten."

"I don't forget allies attacking allies. You were on that hill, hurting Sliders. _I _don't forget _that, _Cascade."

Twist watched the play of emotion across Cascade's face before she lowered her eyes to the ground, narrow and sharp. In a way, she reminded Twist of Lightfoot, except Lightfoot was burning with energy right now, next to Petey, and Cascade was eating herself alive with aimless fury.

Beside her, Declan had gone rigid.

Dryly, Lightfoot said, "Are there any more questions? Because if you want, you can stay here and we can move on, and you can switch sides again, Cascade. I'm sure your Claw mate would be very happy to see you again. Maybe you can give them another litter to come kill us. That was fun last time."

Wordlessly, Cascade snarled her hatred up at Lightfoot, who merely looked amused.

"Look," Lightfoot said, stalking up to Declan's side. "I'm with Declan. To the end. To the end of whatever happens—this journey, my life, our lives—but I'm in this for the long-haul. Now, you have two choices. You can get in line"—she eyed Streak, Hazel, Kale, Gravel, all in quick succession, before settling on Marco, shrewd loathing in her green eyes—"or you can get out of my way. That's your choice. But if any of you dunderheads wake me up in the middle of the night again, you won't have to worry about the end of the journey."

"Well said," Adder murmured to her as she returned to her post. Lightfoot shot him a curious look before turning away back to her sleeping spot beside Stripes, who hadn't even roused at the sound of fighting.

Every cat went back beneath the shelter of the snowy outcropping—Adder stayed out for his turn at the nightly watch—but Declan was restless. Beside Twist, he tossed and turned, shifting onto his belly and back and side without any ounce of restfulness. Finally, Twist decided to say something.

"You have to get some sleep," she whispered, scooting closer to him. She didn't like the hollowness of his green eyes, which had always strengthened her before.

Declan didn't say anything for a long time. Then he sat up, his head hunched below his shoulders, and let out a small sound that was half-sigh and half-groan. "I didn't say anything, Twist. I couldn't think of anything to say."

Thorns gripped her chest. "What are you talking about?"

"Back there, when Marco was fighting Adder. I couldn't think of any way to break up their fight. I couldn't think of a single thing I could have said to stop them, or to get Marco back on my side, or to just…" He closed his eyes sharply then. Slowly, he said, "What kind of leader am I if I can't even control fourteen cats? What if they decided to break off and leave? How would I protect the others?"

"Declan," Twist said, shocked. "Stop talking like this."

"Like what? The truth?" He looked miserable. "You saw them back there. They don't think I'm a good leader. Marco as much as said so. How many others do you think were thinking it? Agreeing with him? Even if they don't say it out loud, they're thinking it, Twist. Lucky made the wrong choice."

Now she was angry. Hot red mist choked her throat. "Listen to me," she said, as steadily as she could. "You can't say things like that. Don't even think them. Lucky put you in charge for a reason. You think he picked you out of nowhere?"

Declan just looked at her sadly. "He picked me because he thought I'd be a good leader. Only you know what? I'm not. I'm not even a good Slider. When Gravel said that to Cascade, about changing sides… Twist, that's me too. _That's me. _I changed sides. I could have been a Claw guard for the rest of my life if you hadn't saved me back in that camp. I would have been Cascade, living for the Claws, fighting for them, giving kits to them—"

Twist cut him off, pressing her head up under his jaw. "Stop," she whispered. "Please. You're…you're scaring me."

Declan didn't stop. "Why did he pick me, Twist? Why? I'm not…I'm not special. Or strong, or smart, or even very brave. Why would be pick me over everybody else? Even Lightfoot would have done a better job than me. Maybe she wouldn't have led us up here. Maybe she wouldn't have let those cats die. Vega and Slash, Felix, Pip and Shot, _Max_…"

Twist didn't know how to comfort him. She didn't have any words either, not anything she could think of to make him stop thinking this way. "I believe in you," she said.

He sighed. Touching his cheek to hers, breathing in her scent briefly, he said, "I know. But this time, I don't think it's enough."

* * *

><p><strong>I think now I'll go Tumbl for a bit, then maybe some editing, and definitely some laying around.<strong>

**Oh such sweet sweet bliss. XD**

**Also, did you guys see the Gatsby movie? What'd you think? I have a few thoughts on it, myself, but I wanna know some other opinions first. XD**

**Anyway,**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	30. Stone and Snow

**Sorry for such a long wait! I've had an awful lot of hours at work recently, and to be honest, I got a little discouraged with the whole writing thing for awhile. It's hard to believe that I'm improving when all my work looks the same to me. It really takes another person's eyes to tell you what to improve and what you're doing right, and one of you guys really did that for me. You know who you are! I'm so very, very grateful, so this chapter's for you! Sorry it took longer than I said it would. :'3**

**Onto the story!**

* * *

><p>The night passed listlessly. Hazel caught sleep in snatches, closing her eyes and praying for morning, only to open them in the darkness once more. It was such a pervasive, enduring darkness, thick as a pelt and smothering as smoke.<p>

Kale was mumbling in his sleep next to her. He'd dropped in weight, like the rest of them. His pelt hung on him like ragged moss. The sharpness of bones was visible through his fur.

But he was still beautiful. He was still hers.

Hazel burrowed into his side. Her whiskers were bent painfully back against her face. One of them jabbed into her eye. _Well, this is uncomfortable. _

All her life, she'd dreamed of freedom, of running off into these mountains and hiding in their icy gray desolation. It had been her favorite fantasy. She'd meet a handsome young tom and he'd whisk her away from the Warren with his charm and love, and they'd live together forever, young and fresh as raindrops, and when they died, they'd fly across the sea like Declan always said, and be together forever.

Now that all seemed rather foolish. Even with Kale at her side. Reality was a harsher presence. And the roiling hunger in her belly was forefront in her mind.

They hadn't eaten the day before. The previous, they'd all split a rangy rabbit. Its meat had been tough and stringy, flavorless as mud. Hazel had choked it down, eyes watering, and tried to pretend it was a big juicy rat. It hadn't worked.

Kale said quietly, "You should settle down. More walking tomorrow. You'll need your strength."

Hazel puffed out her cheeks. Her breath was a cloud of white. Frozen drops clung to the end of her whiskers. "I can't sleep."

"Try harder. You might not be trying hard enough."

"I've had my eyes closed for like half the night and I can't sleep. It's impossible."

Kale purred. He shifted, setting his muzzle alongside hers. When he breathed out, it warmed her cheek. "Stubborn," he teased.

Hazel nuzzled him. He made her feel like this was all worth it. That this journey could have an end that wasn't full of death. A bitter fall started in her stomach, slow as feathers falling. "I miss Max," she whispered.

Max's loss hit her harder every day. They'd played together as kits. Well, she'd been a kit—he'd been half an adult by then, amused and laughing, with bright eyes. Always ready for a game. He'd even managed to get Marco in on it a few times. Whenever Streak had been too busy with Lucky's orders, they'd played tail-catch and chase-the-shadow and pouncing games. He'd taught her to keep her tail flat when she crouched. He'd taught her how to follow the tracks of rats in the south corner to their nests, and the difference between males and females, and adults and young. _We never hunt their children, _he'd told her. _Children belong with their mothers. _And then he'd gotten all flustered and upset, remembering that Hazel had no blood mother.

But that hadn't mattered, because he'd been so genuine. Max had never hidden any of his true feelings. Everything had been clear was water with him. Especially what he felt about Marco.

Kale opened his eyes and looked at her. They were beautiful as ever, but sadder now. The night made them gray like storm clouds. "I know," he said, touching his nose to her ear. "I'm sorry. I know he was your friend."

Hazel swallowed, looking down at her paws. "He was young," she said. "He didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve this." Her words were tight as drawn vines in her throat. She could barely manage them.

Kale let out a sympathetic murmur. Laying his paw over hers, he dipped his head to meet her eyes. Moonlight gilded his ears. "I saw him, you know," he said. "He died like a warrior. Blackjack came at him and he held his ground. Max never backed down. Not ever."

_Oh, _she thought, with a little start to the numbness in her belly. _That's right. Kale was there._

Kale had been the only one who'd returned to them. All the others, Vega and Felix, Pip and Shot, Slash. Max. They'd all gone to their deaths. Now they'd sleep on the mountainside forever, buried beneath the snow. They'd never go home. They'd never see the Warren again, or sleep with their families, or rest beneath the shade of the beech tree with the rest of the fallen, those who had died in the war with the Claws. Snow would be their grave-markers and silence would be their prayers.

_Kale could have been with them, _she thought. A horrible, aching agony rose up inside of her chest. _He could have died. _

If Kale died, there would be no point for her to keep going on with her life. He'd come in and lit up her tiny dark world like a starburst. Life without him would be like walking this earth without a sun. There would be no guiding light for her lost paws.

There would be no home for her aside from the grave at his side.

"You were brave," she said. Her throat was dry from the cold. The words came out ragged. They made her cough, and she thought she tasted blood.

Kale looked away. "I was lucky," he said. "Blackjack could have killed me, too. He almost did."

"I don't want you to die," she said.

He looked back at her. There was a curious expression in his face, like he didn't quite believe her. That was something she simply couldn't understand, that Kale could really, honestly believe she didn't love him. As if that was his place, as the most handsome, brave, loving tom she'd ever met. As if she couldn't be there instead, a cross, hard-hearted she-cat, bitter and jaded far past her seasons.

"I know," he said again, at last, but it was too slow in coming.

That made her upset. She snuggled closer to him, pressing her muzzle up against his jaw. "I love you," she said. "I do."

Kale sighed. She could hear the gust through his lungs, the soft exhale of his sides. "You need your rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

A yawn rose up in her, long and bone-cracking. "Okay," she said sleepily. She tucked her head against his shoulder, curling her paw around his. "Goodnight, Kale."

He touched her head with his nose once more. The tip of it was cold like ice. It made her shiver. "Goodnight, Hazel."

XXX

The next day was another trek through the snow, with the added bonus of sleet.

Hazel, having lived her whole life in the lowlands, had never seen sleet before. It lashed down from the sky in needles, slicing into her skin, right through her fur. It fell like rain but hit the ground as ice, splashing up into spines that froze nearly as quick as they touched down.

Hazel dodged around one of them, keeping her tail and ears low. One had already cut her ear. Blood rain down her cheek, freezing to her whiskers. The smell of metal followed her, and for a split-second, it was almost comforting. The Warren smelled like metal.

And then she laughed at herself for missing something she'd hated so much. It had been the prison, the cage for her clipped wings.

Now she was free. In pain, starving, and nearly collapsing from exhaustion, but free. She would choose it again in a heartbeat.

Declan padded beside her, unrelenting as the snow. He had his brow furrowed against the wind. It curled his fur up on his shoulders and the back of his neck, making him look ruffled. Frost made him look like a lion in reverse: white mane, red pelt. Hazel took to walking in his shadow, letting his broader shoulders cut down on the wind.

Twist was beside him, looking characteristically cross. Streak and Adder were at her heels, Petey just behind them. The old dark tom was limping heavily, and his pawprints were dotted with blood.

_His paw his freezing, _she thought. Marco and Gravel were sweeping behind the tracks as best as they could, but the straggling pack of cats were leaving more trace than a bleeding rabbit. The snow was white when they stopped to rest and pink by the time they moved on.

It didn't take the strongest nose to find them: only the most persistent. And she figured Blackjack had a very persistent nose. After all, he'd tracked them from his home in the lowlands all the way up into this snowy wasteland. Now they were practically doing the work for him.

Noon came and went. The sky didn't change. It remained a stony gray, sending screaming ice and wind down on them. Only when the sleet stopped did Declan call a halt. Hazel, for the first time, looked up from her leaden paws. Her mouth fell open.

They were at the mouth of a vast gray canyon. Wind and water had clawed it out of the mountain, leaving behind jagged teeth of rock. It was flush with odd angles, slanted panels of claw-sharp rock, and every gust of wind sent down a rain of pebbles. High above, the mountain continued, split down the channel almost as evenly as halves. The tops were vanished into the wispy white clouds, gauzy and pale with distance.

It was massive. It was the largest thing that Hazel had ever seen. The walls soared dizzyingly high into the air, higher than anything she could ever imagine. In the air between the mountains, a dark eagle flew, so tiny from distance that it was only a speck.

"Wow," Kale breathed beside her. Awe was in his eyes, bringing back that blue light she'd missed so terribly.

"Wow," she agreed, something twisting tightly within her. It was a new feeling, she realized. Not hunger or fear or cold. It was the marvelous, singing glow of exhilaration, of elation. Her mind couldn't even process this grandeur. All her life, she'd been contained in the Warren's pale wood walls.

Now there were no walls in sight. It was just this: wild, beautiful, savage wastes.

Declan puffed out an exhale. "Looks like we're making good progress," he said to the group at large, but Lightfoot answered him.

"Mountains are fine," she said. "This is better. This means we're at the end."

_The end. _The words meant so much to Hazel. The end of the mountains meant the beginning of something even newer, something richer than this old life. The end of this canyon promised new fields and grasses, new plants and forests, new creatures to stalk and hunt, and new cats to meet. Where the mountains left off would be a better life for her. She wouldn't be hunted. She would be the hunter once more.

_Freedom. _The word sang through her blood like adrenaline. Something she'd always wanted, something she'd always craved. Now it was right here, so close she could almost taste it.

Petey asked, "What's on the other side?"

That had escaped her, that she'd have to go through this canyon first. Visions of what lay ahead had overwhelmed that basic logic.

Declan looked expectantly to Twist, but she shook her head. She looked exhausted, too, her yellow eyes dull. The strange cat Stripes was leaning heavily against her shoulder, neck stiff with a crust of frozen blood. Hazel could hardly believe he was still alive, but fire shone in his eyes, cutting as glass.

Twist glanced around at the high faces of the jagged cliffs. "This is outside my old gang's territory. We never came over here."

That made Streak frown. Where he was standing, a few shoulders away from Hazel, she could see him looking concerned. "Why? Other cats?"

Twist shook her head. "No, the only other cats live on the other side of the mountain, where it gets taller. The Tribe of Rushing Water. When I was barely older than a kitten, they chased us away from there. We were stealing their prey because we couldn't hunt on this side. There wasn't ever any good prey here. Just rocks and hills." A thoughtful look furrowed her brow. "We have to get down to the other side first, and then we'll be able to settle. For a while."

Hazel felt a bitter taste in her mouth. _Settle, _she thought. _Just so we can leave again. _

Streak must have sensed her discomfort, because he weaved his way through the crowd to stand next to her. "Eyes on the prize, Patch," he said, flicking her flank with his tail. "Don't look so gloomy."

"I don't look gloomy," she said. "I look tired."

Sympathy softened his eyes. "You've done such a good job. I'm proud of you."

Praise from Streak usually made her glow with happiness, but she was distracted by a winging snatch of memory, of him saying, _I__love__you_._ I've loved you almost since I first set eyes on you._

They'd only spoken about it that once, Streak's heated confession. It had been the angriest she'd ever seen him. Not angry at her, of course—Streak rarely got angry at her—but at something else. Something she didn't understand, not entirely. It had risen up in him like fire, something out of control. It had lit him from the inside out. She had felt something then, something she hadn't felt since. It had been close to fear, but she could never fear Streak. It had been something closer to awe. She had stood in wonder of him then, in this way she'd never noticed him before, shining with the strength of his words.

Flushed and self-conscious, Hazel leaned away from his touch and turned her eyes back to Declan. "Thanks," she said, not looking at him.

Streak seemed confused, but let it drop. "I should tend to Stripes," he said.

"Okay." Hazel couldn't meet his eyes. She felt uncomfortable around him now, which she hated. It had never been like this before. It had always been easy as flowing water. And now she felt like sometimes, she couldn't even talk to him without feeling stupid or childish.

Declan was walking around, sniffing the ground. It was all patchy with tiny pebbles from the rock shelf above them, parted here and there with snow and slicks of ice. Twist was at his side, Gravel and Iggy the other. They were conversing in low voices, too quiet for Hazel to make out.

Kale strode up from where he'd been sitting out of the storm. Most of his fur was back under control now, but the ragged patch between his ears was sticking up. "We should go hunt," he said.

Hazel glanced over to Twist again. She was deep in conversation, not paying any attention. Whenever Declan was speaking to her, she always was rapt. Declan was the same: he looked at her like he was seeing for the first time and couldn't tear himself away. It always made Hazel's stomach feel tight.

She said, "We don't have orders yet."

"Who needs orders? I'm starving. This is the best hunting ground we've seen in days."

_ Twist said this land was empty. _Twist had told her about her youth in a gang of ragged wild cats. It had always seemed exciting to Hazel, a vast, grand adventure, but Twist had made it very clear that it was anything but. That hadn't stopped Hazel from imagining that kind of life.

But she trusted Twist. If she said there was no hunting here, it must be true.

Kale flicked his tail. "Don't you think we can just slip away?"

Hazel felt a sharp shock in her stomach. "Slip away? We'd get in so much trouble." The thought that Twist would willingly allow Hazel to leave her sight was beyond insanity—especially after Blackjack and his Watchers had already taken out so many of their number. Paring off from the group seemed like a bad idea.

But now Kale looked down at his paws shyly. "Actually…the hunting was a lie. I just wanted to spend a little time alone with you. We haven't gotten to just be by ourselves in moon cycles." He glanced up at her from beneath his eyelashes. It made the pale color of his eyes more apparent, as close to the cold-season's sky as she'd ever seen. "I like having you all to myself. You've been sad recently. I don't want that. I want you to be happy. Why shouldn't we be happy?"

_Because others are dead and we're still alive. Because if we put ourselves in that situation and die, Twist and Declan would never be the same._

But aloud, she said, "I don't want Twist to catch me."

Kale's eyes lit up with pleasure. "She won't," he promised, pressing his muzzle to hers. His touch was warm as kindling. "We'll be sneaky."

Hazel still felt uneasy about it. Her stomach was a big knot.

But Kale was persistent. Crossing out from beneath the overhanging ledge of rock, he came to her side. Touching her nose gently with his own, he said softly, "Come with me. Come be with me, Hazel. I'll protect you. I love you."

Hazel's heart swelled. Before her mind had caught up with his words, her mouth was already saying, "Okay," and her paws were already moving, falling in step with Kale's familiar gait.

"I'll make a distraction," he said. Turning, he bounded away towards the rock wall again. He waited for Cascade to look away from her perch on top before nudging one of the larger rocks down off of its narrow ledge. His near-white pelt blended him in perfectly with the snow. As soon as the rock was moving, he darted away, hiding behind another shelf of rock.

The rock rolled down, picking up enough speed to knock into Cascade's hindquarters.

The she-cat let out a sharp gasp of shock, wheeling on the spot. The sound alerted all the cats in the canyon, turning them towards her with raised ears and fur.

Kale sprang from the rock and slipped away into the scrubby, frozen bushes, his pawsteps silent on the snow. He caught her eye and flicked his tail, motioning her over.

Hazel followed more slowly, cautiously. The others were still flocked around Cascade, some angry with her for raising a false alarm and some concerned about how jumpy everyone had gotten. Declan was trying to contain the situation, speaking louder than usual, but his voice was still calm as ever. Twist, on the other paw, was yowling at everybody to shut up, moving from cat to cat and scolding them, especially fixed on Cascade. Dislike was strong in her eyes. Streak was comforting his sister, who was shaking like a leaf at Ren's side. Violet had always been nervous. Now her nerves seemed on overdrive.

Only Lightfoot hadn't moved. She was sitting upright, ears straight in the air, her leaf-green eyes trained right on Hazel. They narrowed.

Hazel swallowed thickly. But she'd made up her mind already, as soon as Kale had told her he loved her. That had been what she'd wanted all this time, after all. That was part of her mountain fantasy, to run away with a handsome tom. Reality could take a break for a little while.

Without another thought, she sprang into the bushes, letting them fall shut behind her.

Xxx

As soon as they were out of the view of the canyon, Kale picked up speed.

Hazel was struggling to keep up. After days and days of trudging through the snow, her paws had forgotten how to walk quickly. "Wait," she called. "Wait for me, Kale!"

He turned and glanced back at her. A weird look was on his face again, that same fleeting disbelief. He looked straight again, leaping up through a set of gray, dead brambles.

Hazel was breathing hard. A stitch had worked up between her ribs by her heart. It pinched with every step she took, until it was a searing, cold ache, and her paws were flying over the snow. Pebbles caught between her pads, working their way up into the soft skin there.

_What is he doing? He'll scare off all the prey on the mountainside._

Kale was running reckless down the side of the canyon now, taking another path than the one they'd come from. The tip of his tail was waving, a beacon to her. She followed it blindly, blinking new-falling snow out of her eyes.

The ground slowly turned less stable beneath her paws. One of the pebbles had cut her paw and bled over the rocks, making her footing even less sure. It hurt.

"Kale!" she called out again. He'd disappeared from her view. Everything was white now as the snow picked up speed. It blinded her.

And now the fear came. She breathed in sharply, shallowly, her eyes wide and blinking.

There was nothing around but the gray slant of the ground. The mountain was in front and to the side of her, that blank distant wall. On her other side was the frozen stream they'd crossed a few days ago. It was still iced over but she could see the dark churn of water just beneath the crust of ice.

Hazel stopped dead. This was a good idea, she knew, to go to a water source for prey. But what prey could break through that ice to get at it?

There was a soft, deadly snarl behind her.

Every nerve in Hazel's body locked up.

_No, _she thought, closing her eyes. _No, this can't be happening. _

"Kale, stop playing around," she said, her voice shaking hard. She was angry. Of course she was angry. He was trying to frighten her while they were separated from the rest of the group. "Kale, this isn't funny."

The growling didn't stop.

_You're not afraid, _she told herself. _You're overreacting. When you get ahold of him, you can pummel him for scaring you so badly._

Forcing that clinging, strangling fear to the back of her mind, Hazel took in a deep breath and turned.

It wasn't Kale. It wasn't even a cat.

It was a wolf. And it was rabid.

* * *

><p><strong>Dun dunnnn! I've always wondered why the Erins avoided wolves so much. Having a wolf in the mountains makes an awful lot more sense to me than having a cougar. Maybe that's just my skewed ideas on cougars, though, which also live in Florida, where there are no snowy mountains with giant waterfalls. XD But here we call them panthers, not mountain lions or pumas.<strong>

**On the plus side, all my pets are back up to health! Both my rats got skin mites from some bad bedding I bought, and then my guinea pig got an ear infection from the same thing. Aaargh! So there went half my savings account to vet bills. Everyone's all good now, though! The Shadow Brigade of Animals are all as adorable and cutesy-wutesy as ever!**

**God, I love my rats. Do you guys have rats? Do you know the beauty of owning a rat? Because it is a beautiful thing. :3**

**Well, that's enough blathering, don't you think? I'mma go work on my book now. Editing in draft eight. Wooooooooo!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	31. Beneath and Above

**I'm supposed to be writing a murder mystery dinner set in the Roaring Twenties, but instead, I wrote this. Oops, procrastination!**

**Anyway, onto the story~**

* * *

><p>The wolf was almost pure black, with just a little white around its muzzle. Deep scars were cut into its snout, cruel hurtful wounds that festered red and yellow and green. Ice crusted around its shaggy mane of rough fur. Its stance was uneven, sloping unnaturally to one side, hefting a shoulder above the other in some eerie parody of health.<p>

Its eyes looked strange. They weren't the yellow Twist had always told Hazel about, or the greenish-red she imagined when she heard spooky bedtime stories from Declan.

These were crazed, feverish. The slaver that fell from the wolf's white muzzle was thick and viscous. It pooled on the ground at its feet.

Hazel couldn't help it: she screamed.

And then she ran.

Blindly, she flew through the snow, feeling the hot, panting breath of the wolf behind her. Every hurt fled her mind—her cut paws, her aching legs, her dry throat—all of it vanished in this purest emotion: terror.

She'd never been so afraid in her life. And now the only thought in her head was a constant barrage of the same word, rolling into itself so many times that it ceased to have meaning.

_Run run run run run._

The mountain was not her friend today, not her freedom from a life of interment. Today it was just as much a cage as the Warren ever was. Every slope and every rut in the ground she could see was too shallow, too narrow, for her to fit into. The clefts in the rock were far out of her reach, and no burrows greeted her as she soared by on paws made of wind.

Behind her, the wolf's ragged breathing spurred her fear. It was like an animal inside her chest, screaming and clawing and fighting for its life, nearly strangling her.

_ Kale, _she thought, but he was already far ahead of her when the wolf had appeared from behind a rock pile. He'd been nearly to the stream. Surely he'd gotten over it. Surely he was safe.

Which left just her.

A canyon was up ahead of her, yawning open like a mouthful of teeth. It was where the rest of the Sliders were.

A single surge of panic rose up in her. _No. _

No, she could not lead this creature back to her friends and family. No, she was not going to bring this death upon them.

There was gap in the wall. She darted into it.

Hazel rounded the corner too sharply. Her paws skidded out from beneath her and she hit her shoulder hard. Grit and pebbles dug up under her skin. She could feel them when her muscle rolled, surging her back to her feet. Each one was a pinpoint of sharp pain.

A shelf rose up ahead of her, set out in layers of shingled rock. She sprang on top of it, digging in her claws, screaming through her teeth when the shards in her shoulder sank in even more. One last heave and she was up, whisking her tail out of the way of the wolf's lunging snap.

She gasped for breath, cautiously leaning over the edge.

The wolf let out a confused snarling sound. It was circling tightly beneath her rock, staring up at her with those wrong eyes. Hatred was there, burning like a searing flame. She could feel it.

This creature hated her. This creature wanted to kill her. Not for food, but for the pure, simple pleasure of killing.

That she could understand, and it horrified her.

She'd done this same thing to that bird, so long ago. Streak had called her out on it.

Now she was the bird. And all this wolf had to do was circle in closer.

_Maybe it'll go away, _she thought, breathless with painful hope. _Maybe it'll lose interest._

It was starving. Its bones showed through its shabby coat. It was just as hungry as she was, its belly just as empty.

Was this the cycle of things? Kill or be killed? Eat or be eaten? That was what Twist had always told her, but Twist had never told her that the hunter could become the hunted.

The wolf looked back up at her. It whined low in its throat. Hungry.

"You won't eat me," she spat down at it, arching her back. Every hair on her body was up. "I'm not going to die here. I can't." _Not before I've even lived._

The wolf perked its ears at the sound of her voice. It was swaying on its feet.

She hissed, swiping an extended paw at it. A rock tumbled down from her perch and hit it between the eyes.

It didn't blink.

Neither did she.

So it went on, this staring match, for so long that Hazel's body went numb. The sun had already sunk long ago. It was freezing in this tiny nook. The wind had scraped it out and the wind continued to barrage it, forcing Hazel's whiskers against her face, and probing cold fingers into her fur.

She shivered, bundling closer. _I wish Streak were here, _she thought, closing her eyes for a moment. _He'd save me._

Then she blinked. _Kale, _she thought. _Kale would save me. Not Streak. I can't expect Streak to save me when I can't even— _

_Can't even what?_ came a cynical voice in the back of her head. It sounded like Twist's voice. _Can't even love him back? He's a better fit for you. Pureblood Slider without the Claw taint. Kale is just as rabid as this wolf. You just can't tell yet._

Hazel gritted her teeth and opened her eyes. The view in front of her was more pleasant than that thought.

The wolf had settled down on its haunches, but continued its staring. Frost spread on its face and fur, all the way down to its mouth. The saliva there had frozen solid, striping its white chin.

Hazel spat in disgust. "Filthy mongrel," she snarled, because it was what Twist would have said.

"Hazel?"

Hazel froze, a harder, colder fear rising up in her stomach. _No. _

It was Declan's voice, high-pitched with panic. He was looking for her.

_Of course, _she thought numbly. _You went missing. You went missing hours ago. _

"Hazel, where are you?" The call was distant but approaching. Hazel could tell it.

The wolf lifted its head and turned, looking in that direction. Slow as wind lifting the grass back at the Warren, its hackles rose.

_No, _she thought again, rising before she could even complete the thought. _No, I won't allow this._

Declan was not going to die in her stead. Nobody was, but especially not him. Not when he had loved her through every torment she'd given him. Not when he'd always replied to her spite with patience and kindness.

Right as the wolf got to its feet, Hazel sprang.

All four sets of claws landed firmly in its back. With a shrieking cry of shock, it whirled around, sending her flying.

She hit the ground a few paces away, hard enough to knock the breath out of her lungs. For a few precious seconds, she could only lay there and wheeze.

The wolf was still spinning, looking at its back for her. It caught sight of her and stopped completely, still sidelong. It bared its teeth.

Hazel ran.

Declan was still calling for her. Hazel heard, heart aching, and turned away, heading deeper into the mountains.

A killer couldn't resist the chase. Completely ignoring Declan, the wolf followed her.

She couldn't outrun it forever. She knew that, with ever-growing alacrity. Sooner or later, this chase would end, and it wouldn't end prettily for her.

_At least I could give them this, then, _she thought, the stitch in her chest nearly overwhelming now. _At least they will live. Even if I don't._

Twist and Declan could go on without her. They had before. They could do it again. They could have years and years more with each other, years of love and devotion, without the constant nuisance of Hazel to interfere. It would be perfect for them.

The snow was too deep here, higher up the mountainside. As soon as her paws touched it, she knew she wouldn't be going very far.

Hazel sank up to her chest, her paws deep beneath the hard crust. Crying out from the pain of it, she wrenched them free and stumbled on, only to fall in another pocket of snow. She tore herself loose and kept on.

The wolf was behind her. She could feel its shadow upon her back.

The snow broke in front of her, giving her free ground. Hazel ran clumsily to it, feeling the purchase of her claws on the rough stone. In front of her was more and more mountain, either too flat or too steep for her. It was useless.

One more step and she was down on the ground. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. It stammered and screamed in her chest like a trapped bird.

Hazel rolled onto her side, gasping, her vision blackening, as the wolf approached.

At first, it did nothing. It just stared down at her, almost as if it were confused. Behind its erect ears, she saw the moon, silver and beautiful, parted from the snowstorm. It was a breathtaking sight—if she had any breath to take. The thought made her laugh, crazily and breathlessly, which made the wolf's head jerk up.

Hazel found that she no longer cared. Maybe the moon was beckoning her. Maybe it would take her across the sea, like Declan said, where the land would be warmer, kinder. She would see her father there, Snit. Maybe her real mother, the she-cat named Audrey whom Twist had always told her about.

The wolf's head came down, its jaws parted, and Hazel closed her eyes. She could almost taste the salt of the sea…

And then the warmth of the wolf's face was gone.

Through bleary, barely-functioning eyes, she saw a black-and-white pelt of some massive cat, eyes flashing as it fought off the wolf, hissing and spitting and caterwauling like a ghost.

_Snit, _Hazel thought, astonished. _My father's ghost has come back to save me._

But then the cat turned.

"Would you kindly get your furry little behind up and away, before I shred it off your body?" Lightfoot's teeth were bared. They glinted more brightly than the moon. "Or would you prefer to take a little nap while I fight off this, if you hadn't noticed, _completely rabid wolf?"_

Hazel scrambled to her paws. They barely held her. Even as she stood she was swaying, faltering to the side.

Lightfoot was screaming curses at the wolf as she fought it, raking her claws down its muzzle from both sides at the same time, leaping out of the way of its heaving lunges.

The smell of blood was the strongest Hazel had ever smelled.

Hazel turned and ran away, hopping on three paws when her front one refused to work. The sounds of the battle raged behind her, screaming and howling and hissing and snarling, a terrible cacophony of nightmarish sound. Hazel folded her ears close to her head and kept on.

_Lightfoot's going to make it, _she thought as she walked. She was half-afraid she was leaving a blood trail. _Lightfoot can kill anything. She's told me all the cats she's killed. A wolf isn't really anything at all next to three cats at once…_

A low-roofed dark spot greeted her around the next bend. A burrow of some sort, some creature's abandoned home. Without a second thought, she piled into it, going as deep as she could into the long, black tunnel.

The sides were slick with ice. They glazed Hazel's fur with water as she continued her trek with single-minded commitment. If she thought too hard about anything—Kale, Declan, Lightfoot—she'd surely lose her footing.

Her nose bumped into a hard rock wall hard enough to make blood burst from her nostrils.

Hazel took a few steps back, blinking. It was dark as pitch. She couldn't even see the tips of her own whiskers.

She stuck out a paw, feeling around. Solid rock.

"No," she whispered, easing up onto her hind legs and bracing both front paws—even her injured one—against the wall. "No, no, no."

It wasn't deep enough. If she turned and looked behind her, she could still see a trace of moonlight. She couldn't be more than fifty paces in.

She turned and started searching the other wall, running her paws down the sides, finding nothing for her troubles but some old bones of prey.

_I'm stuck, _she thought, closing her eyes. A keen was building up in her throat. _Instead of dying like a hero, I ran away like a coward._

She curled down low, putting her paws over her ears so she wouldn't hear the howling. Now it was certainly just the wind—she'd gotten far enough away—but the thought of that wolf…

Everything in her mind was the howling.

_Kale is out there. Declan, too. What if there's more wolves than just that one? What if there's a whole pack of them, just waiting to ambush us? _The thought made her sick. It persisted into her mind like a toxin, and eventually she had to give into it.

Hazel threw up in the corner of the tunnel. There wasn't much in her stomach but a little bit of liquid. It didn't make her feel any better.

She was coughing up more, belly clenching hard, when she heard the footsteps.

At once, she put her back against the rock wall. "Wh-who's there?" she called out, her throat raw from vomiting. "I'll hurt you!"

The form was approaching. It was a cat, but in this amount of darkness, she couldn't determine the gender or the color of its coat.

Her fears were relieved at the first sound of a dry chuckle. "Not as much as I'll hurt you, little she-cat."

"Lightfoot!" Hazel ran to the she-cat's side, pressing into her fur. She was nearly sobbing now as Lightfoot awkwardly held still, swishing her tail a few times down Hazel's flank. Her entire body was wracked with shivers she couldn't control. They were so strong that her teeth jammed together, clicking in the dark.

"There, there," Lightfoot said quietly, uncharacteristically gentle. She dipped her head and touched Hazel's cheek to her own. Her breath was sour from malnourishment but it was warm. "It's all right. I'm here. You're safe."

Hazel couldn't breathe. "The wolf?"

Lightfoot made a low noise in her chest. "Nobody messes with cats I care about. Both fortunately and unfortunately for you, you stupid little kit, that includes you."

"How is that unfortunate?"

"Because now I'm going to have to kill you myself." Now Lightfoot drew back, and Hazel could sense her fury like heat. _I guess that moment's over. _"How could you run off like that? Are you truly mentally-insufficient, or does the presence of that tom simply make the brains vanish right out of your pretty little head?"

Hazel blinked. "You saw me leave with Kale."

"Yes, I did, and once again, you're lucky that I didn't go find Twist and Declan." There was thinly-veiled disappointment in Lightfoot's eyes. "I told you last time I would rat you out. In a stroke of good fortune, this time involved a rabid wolf."

Hazel curled closer into the ground. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix this. What if you'd gotten bitten? A bite from a rabid wolf would have given it to you, too, you know. You'd be dead by sundown, and out of your mind crazy. Foaming at the mouth just like that monster. You could kill Kale and you wouldn't even notice. You wouldn't even care. The sickness would have taken you over by then, and you'd be a dead cat walking. Do you understand me, Hazel?"

Lightfoot rarely called her by name. It was always "little moron" or "stupid little she-cat." Never "Hazel."

"I understand," Hazel said, voice small and dry.

Lightfoot stared down at her for a moment longer. Hazel could feel the weight of those green eyes pressing her into the floor.

Then Lightfoot relaxed. She turned without another harsh word and led the way back towards the mouth of the tunnel. "Come on," she said as the light grew brighter and Hazel's eyes adjusted. "Let's get you home."

"I don't think so," said a voice sleekly, a voice that was deep forests in winter, silenced by the snow. It was deep water, undisturbed by wind or creature. It was a deep, yawning crevasse with no end in sight, just plunging, plummeting darkness.

Hazel looked out from behind Lightfoot's bristling shoulder to see a tomcat with fur so dark it looked like it drank in the light. He wasn't particularly large but he was long and tall, the same way that Lightfoot herself was long and tall, and at his throat was a dark blue piece of fabric. _A collar, _she recognized. From it hung a single piece of shiny silver that chimed as he broke away from his group, striding closer until he was just in front of them.

He had dark green eyes that were falsely calm. It looked like he was reining himself in, so tightly controlled that his gaze was piercing but not sharp, more enduring and stolid.

It was frightening.

"Hello, Hazel," he said, and now she was very afraid, because this could be no other cat but Blackjack, leader of the Watchers. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"She's not answering anything." Lightfoot's voice was barely intelligible through her snarling. She'd arched her back up and kicked Hazel back with a hind paw, standing protectively in front of her. "You're going to walk away."

Blackjack blinked. "You make that sound like a fact."

"The only variable is whether or not you'll be bleeding profusely." Her eyes slid to another cat, a pale cream she-cat who had eyes like dusted gold. "Oh. It's you."

The she-cat was shivering pitifully. Hazel would have felt bad for her if the black tom wasn't so frightening.

"Hello, Lightfoot," she said. She had a beautiful voice, all dancing light and warm sunshine. "It's so good to see you again."

"I didn't think they let the vermin run with the cats. But maybe that's just how the Watchers are now."

The she-cat flinched visibly. "Lightfoot, we're not doing this to hurt you. You're not a threat to us. It's just—"

"Just the marked cats, huh." Lightfoot's voice was deadly calm. "Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not letting you anywhere near those cats. They're under my protection."

Blackjack said sleekly, "Then we'll just have to go around you." He turned to his cats and nodded.

At once, three pounced on Lightfoot. She let out a screech that sounded like a roar, rearing up on her hind legs as a striped tom worried at her throat. The other one was leaping back and forth, trying to find a good spot to hit her, and the third came for Hazel.

"Come on, little she-cat," the cat said, reaching her paw forward. "Come with us. We won't hurt you."

"You're a liar!" Hazel hissed, lashing out with her claws. She scored a line of cuts on the she-cat's white fur, turning it red.

The she-cat spat furiously, and leapt again.

But Lightfoot caught her halfway. Effortlessly, she twisted and slammed a paw down on the she-cat's back, doubling it up with a cuff to the underside of her jaw.

The she-cat's eyes went wide, then senseless. She fell bonelessly into the snow.

The other two toms were already wounded. One had a ripped ear that was dripping blood all down his face, and the other was favoring a front paw that looked twisted the wrong way.

Lightfoot wasn't even breathing hard. "Was that the hard way or the easy way?" she asked. "Because if it was the former, I pity your fighters."

Blackjack's teeth were bared. "Don't make this difficult. Hand her over and I'll let you go."

Lightfoot simpered, "Next verse, same as the first. You do know how to be annoying. Though not as annoying as your sister."

"Leave Dahlia out of this," he said, tail lashing. His patience was clearly thinning. "She's as formidable as the rest of the Watchers."

"You mispronounced 'pathetic.'"

"Enough!" Blackjack snapped. "Get her!"

He sprang forward himself, barreling into Lightfoot's chest. His weight was enough that it knocked her back.

But Lightfoot wasn't one to be pushed. She dug in her hind claws, tearing up the rough soil, and shoved back. By then, two more Watchers were on her, but not the beautiful she-cat Dahlia. She stood back and watched, looking aghast.

That was strange to Hazel, but she only had a moment to think about it before a cat slashed out at her.

It was a young tom this time, collared like Blackjack. He spat in her face, his teeth inches from her throat. Hazel arched her back, pushing her forepaws into his shoulders, ducking her head to avoid his snapping fangs.

Lightfoot sent him spinning with a yowling curse. He hit the ground half a dozen paces away and spun up a stripe of snow.

"Run!" Lightfoot shouted, knocking loose a Watcher from her back. She was bleeding profusely from her mouth and flank, long rivulets of blood. "Run back to camp! Find the others!"

"No," Hazel howled. "I won't leave you!"

With a shriek, Lightfoot shook off her attackers. She sprang over to Hazel's side, hefting her by the scruff, and threw her bodily down the pathway.

When Hazel landed, Lightfoot was backlit silver. Her long winding tail was bent at the tip and her fur was ragged, but she was still standing.

"Run," she said again, an order this time, and turned back into the fray. She sent a pair of she-cats through the air and was already onto another cluster as Hazel obeyed, turning her back on her savior, her friend, and running like a coward into the dark.

"After her!" she heard Blackjack scream. "Don't let her get away! Blaze, Granite, get her!"

_Pursuit again, _she thought, limping as quickly as she could. _This time, I will win. _

The mountain was rough heading back down but she could make it. The snow had been churned up by the Watchers—she leapt in their pawsteps, springing from hole to hole. When she landed on the other side, she chanced a look behind her.

They were gaining on her, two dark shapes in the night. Hazel turned and plunged away, leaping over a fallen pile of rocks.

The stream was ahead of her now. The camp was close—there were only a few more Watchers than Sliders. Lightfoot would have taken care of more by the time Declan and the others caught up to her. They would save her, just like Lightfoot had saved Hazel. They had to.

The stream looked nearly white. Without pausing, Hazel leapt right onto it. Freezing cold gripped her paw pads, sending a dull pang of pain lancing up her spine. She skittered to the opposite bank as carefully as she could. She looked up, claws digging in.

Her heart stopped.

The mountain rose up impossibly high in front of her. A shelf of rock curved down close to the stream, carving out an alcove.

She had picked the only place on the entire stream where the opposite bank was too tall to climb. She was trapped.

There was a snapping sound behind her. With a gasp, she turned around.

The two Watchers stopped at the bank. They were panting clouds of white frost.

"Come on," one called. "Nowhere to go."

"Nowhere but here, anyway." They exchanged a cruelly amused look.

"Why don't you save us the effort of coming to get you? We won't hurt you." He stepped closer to the bank, resting his toes right on the pebbled edge. "Come now, Hazel."

Hazel curled closer to the ice and shivered. There was snapping and popping beneath her, an eerie, deep cracking. The river. It wouldn't hold her.

One of the toms, the darker one, simply shrugged. "All right," he said breezily. "But just remember, this was your fault. This could have been so easy, Hazel."

He stepped out onto the ice. Thin fingers cracked out from around his paws but the crust of ice held.

_No, _she thought as he crossed steadily to her, his gait even and graceful as if he always walked across frozen rivers. His eyes were glowing green in the darkness. _No, no, no._

He was close enough that she could count his whiskers.

He was close enough that he could reach her.

Hazel shrank back as he stretched for her, one paw extended. She was just out of his range.

The tom frowned. "Pesky little—"

When he set down his paw to reset his stance, and that was when the river gave out beneath him.

He didn't even have time to scream. One second he was there, his eyes wide in surprise, and the next he was gone, a swept-away shadow beneath the ice. His head disappeared beneath the water without a sound.

The other let out a yowl. "Blaze!"

Hazel pushed herself gingerly backwards, away from the gap in the ice, as Granite paced frantically on the shoreline. The water was dark as shadows. The image of Blaze's wide eyes, the fear there, was frozen in her vision like a flash of light. It seemed almost unbelievable that he had been taken so quickly. It was unbelievable.

Granite was working himself up into a panic. Finally, he moved position further downstream, where the ice was thicker, and started forward.

Hazel had two decisions: move from this spot and try to find thicker ice to flee, or stay here and hope that Granite suffered the same fate as his friend.

Granite was picking his way around the far edge, his flank to the mountain, when Hazel made her decision.

She broke from her crouch and kept her weight low over her paws as she ran flat-out for the other side.

"No you don't!" Granite, reckless, threw himself through the space separating them and tackled her, driving her into the hard shelf of the ice.

"No!" She twisted and squirmed, trying to get free. Attacking didn't even occur to her. It was time to run now. It was time to get out of here, to keep going until this whole place was behind her.

Granite had his claws in her back. He was so heavy. His chest against her back, he pinned her to the ice. All her blows were in vain: his fur was too thick for her claws to pierce through.

"All right," he said, lifting himself up a bit. Hazel twisted in his grip, putting them belly-to-belly. The clouds had covered the moon again, making it dark as pitch. "Blackjack won't mind me starting the mission early, would he?"

"He said to bring me back," she gasped. "He told you."

His teeth wrinkled back from his lips. "That was before you killed Blaze. It's your fault he's dead. He was my _brother."_

"I-I didn't know. P-p-please." Hazel pushed with all her might but Granite didn't move an inch. One of her paws was caught in his collar, twisting two of her toes back painfully. A claw was snagged in the fabric.

"Let's see how you like the taste of that water." Drawing back, he slammed his paws down on her shoulders.

The ice creaked and cracked. She felt a fissure open up between her shoulder blades.

"Please," she said again, so low in her throat that she doubted he could hear her.

Granite slammed her shoulders again. Something snapped in her shoulder, a sharp shock that cut through the haze in her brain.

_I am not going to die, _she thought. _I am not going to die. _

"_I am not going to die!"_ she screamed, and heaved up, thrashing violently.

Granite was thrown off. He landed on his feet lightly, fury in his eyes. Hazel flipped onto her belly. Every hair on her back was on edge, and every nerve in her body was alight, and she'd never felt more alive.

"You—" Granite stepped forward, and the ice splintered beneath his paw. He glanced down, distracted, and that was when Hazel made her move.

Ducking her head, she bashed into his chest, pushing him back even more. His claws squealed along the ice, leaving white trails as he skidded back.

"You are not going to kill me," she snarled, arching her back. She moved forward again, one careful step at a time, not looking away from this tom who had tried to murder her.

But he didn't look angry now. He didn't have that fury in his eyes.

Granite looked…afraid.

"You're not going to kill me," she said again. _Power, _she thought, she rejoiced. _This is what it feels like. _

This was the bird and Streak all over again. This was feeling like the hunter.

She would not be the hunted. Not ever again.

Hazel pounced forward, leaping for him, and Granite stumbled back. Each pawstep, heavier than hers, left a spiderweb of fissures in the ice. It wouldn't take long to find the right spot.

And it didn't.

One last step, one more clumsy step in retreat, and Granite found a sweet spot in the ice.

His haunches went first, then his waist, all the way up to his shoulders. With a weird, wailing cry, his claws cut into the ice, holding him. Just barely.

Hazel approached cautiously as Granite fought against the current of the dark water. He looked up at her, eyes full of fear.

Hazel looked down on him. It felt good. It felt spectacular.

"I will never be someone's prey again," she said.

"Let me up." He groaned, scraping one paw forward. He couldn't find purchase on the ice.

"Your Watchers will never kill me."

"Help me," he said.

Hazel ignored him. "You will never make me feel fear like I've felt this night. You will never hurt me ever again."

"For the stars' sake, help me up!" Granite shrieked.

Hazel looked down at him, really looked. "No," she said.

And then she walked away, up across the other side of the bank, and went to find her family.

* * *

><p><strong>FINALLY.<strong>

**I have been dying to write this chapter forever, ever since I wrote that scene where Hazel tortures the bird. MMM, tortured protagonists~ I love it.**

**Also, I just got Pokemon Y and oh mah gosh, is it amazing. Fantabulous. In fact, I might go play it some more right now.**

** Exp. Share works on the entire team every battle. No more level grinding. No more hours and hours of battling. **

**GOD IS REAL, MY READERS.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	32. Distance and Closeness

**IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. SHADOW ACTUALLY UPDATED.**

**A lot has happened since you and I last spoke, readers! I had my Halloween murder mystery party-a success, though I got a little bit too tipsy on Mary Pickfords and punch-completed NaNoWriMo-on the last day, much to my shame-and had enormous, very stressful health problems! **

**I had to go to like four doctors about these massive headaches I was having, and they thought I had a brain tumor for a week or so, so I had to call in to work for two and a half weeks, get a CAT scan, and see a neurologist, but apparently what I have is post-concussion migraines, which I got because my dog decided to headbutt me in the temple. Luckily, with vitamins and a change in diet, they seem to be getting better, but stress or overworking myself makes me have really severe ones. BUH.**

**On the plus side, though, I do not have a brain tumor. THANK GOD.**

**Sorry for making you guys wait so long, but here it is in all its glory. Thank you to all my new readers-you're very welcome here at Shadow's Writing Corner, especially those of you who marathonned my fics. Plushies and hot cocoa to all you brave souls. Y'all are very beast. XD**

**With that all said, let's get on with it!**

**Enjoy~**

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><p>"Hazel!" Declan called, running down the frozen river bank towards the sound of screaming. It was after midnight, and the ground before him was lit silver with moonlight.<p>

He plunged over the pebbly shore, stopping just short of the river. It was frosted white with ice that barely seemed thick enough to hold a leaf, let alone a cat, but there were the prints, clear as anything, right there in the gravel.

Three sets.

Declan looked down at them desperately. Tracking had never been his strong suit, but it appeared that one of the sets was smaller than the others, the pads rounder, younger.

_Hazel, _he thought, fear almost incapacitating him.

He hadn't even noticed she was missing until Streak had come up to him, panic in his yellow eyes, and reported that he hadn't seen Hazel since they'd made camp in the ravine. It hadn't taken long to notice that Kale was missing two. From there, it was easy math.

The pair of them, young and careless, had run off in the night, tearing away into the vicious mountain cold-season.

Declan stood on the bank now, looking out across the river. There was an alcove of sorts on the opposite side, the mountain curving down to shelter a patch of ice that was cracked open. The dark water of the river churned up like blood.

And in that dark water was a head.

"Hazel!" Declan didn't think anymore. He leapt out onto the ice without a moment's pause and took off across the river.

Beneath his paws, the shelf groaned. It was a deep sound, a sound that radiated down to his very bones. It shook him. It terrified him.

But the thought that Hazel could be drowning was so much worse.

_Please let her hold on, _he thought as he reached the struggling cat. Its fur was dark with the water of the river, making it impossible to tell the coloration. All he could see was two paws struggling, claws out, and a voice crying out in a long, tired wail of terror.

Declan stopped dead at the edge of the hole.

It wasn't Hazel.

It was a tom with bright blue eyes that were filled with exhaustion. In front of him were innumerable tracks of his claws, cut deep into the ice from the strength of his struggling. There was blood smudged here and there, and foam around his mouth.

Declan let out a shocked breath.

At once, the tom turned to him. There was agonizing desperation in his voice when he pleaded, "Help me."

"Hold on," Declan said, leaning up on his toes, trying to find the weak points in the ice. It was fractured so much. He could barely tell thin ice from the broken.

Eventually, he found what he thought would be good enough. It was at the tom's back, where the edges of the ice were hard as glass. They'd sliced up his skin like prey.

"I'm going to grab you, all right?" Declan said, trying to be soothing. "I'm going to grab your scruff. Just hold as still as you can."

"Hurry!" the tom yowled. "I can't hold on much longer!"

Declan took in a deep breath. Then he reached out and sank his teeth into the cat's thick scruff.

It was stiff with ice. It cut the inside of Declan's mouth, his tongue, his gums, but he held tight and pulled, arching back. The tom was heavy, deadweight from his struggles in the water, but he helped as much as he could.

Together, slowly, gingerly, they managed to get him up out of the water and onto the river. It was a slow process back to the bank of the river. The tom had to lean heavily on Declan's shoulder, and at times, he had to stop and pant for a moment, legs quivering, but they made it back to solid ground.

The tom collapsed at once. Declan, heart hammering in his chest, immediately set to licking the tom's pelt dry, using long smooth strokes. "You'll catch your death if you keep cold this long," he said between licks.

The tom didn't say anything. His eyes were half-closed under Declan's ministrations, his breathing deep and slow.

"My name's Declan," he said, moving onto the cat's back. "What's yours?"

It took the other cat a long moment to collect himself. Then, he said, "Granite. It's…Granite."

"Granite, what are you doing out this far in the mountains? How did you fall into the water? Do you have others out here who can take care of you?"

But Granite had already passed out. He slumped into the pebbles, resting his entire body until it sagged.

Declan felt a pang of anxiety. He couldn't leave this cat out here to freeze, but he couldn't give up on finding Hazel either. She was still out here somewhere, missing.

_She has Kale, _he thought. _They can take care of each other. This cat has nobody._

It was hard to get Granite up. As Declan nudged him, the tom let out sleepy murmurs, his voice distorted from his ordeal. Eventually, Declan managed to half-sling Granite over his back, letting his hind paws trail along behind.

"You've been eating well," Declan noted, grunting beneath the weight of the heavier cat. "You must not be from around here."

"House…housecat," Granite managed. Declan could feel Granite's heart hammering through his back.

"Housecat! Then what are you doing up here?"

"I had to come," he said. His voice broke in places where Declan had to step down or up across the flat shingle that lead up to higher ground. "My brother…wanted me to…"

"Where's your brother?" _That could be someone who can take care of him, _Declan thought.

Granite didn't reply.

They made it back to camp safely. Declan gently shrugged Granite onto the ground in front of an aghast Streak and Twist.

Twist looked alarmed. "What's happening? Who's that?"

"Where's Hazel?" Streak demanded.

Twist turned to look at him. "Hazel's missing?" At once, she rounded on Declan, fear in her eyes. "Where is she?"

"I went to look for her but I found this cat instead. I couldn't leave him there to die. He was in the water."

Twist didn't seem to hear him. "You chose a stranger over Hazel? Have you ever even set eyes on this cat in your life? What on earth made you pick him?"

It occurred to Declan, as he bent his head and took the storm of her anger, that this was a normal reaction to her. Try as she might, Twist had never been able to fully break herself from her old gang's lifestyle. There, it was fend-for-yourself. Protect your own. Leave behind those whom you don't care about.

But Declan couldn't live like that.

Eventually, Twist fell silent. She was shaking, her eyes narrowed, her claws flexing in and out.

And Declan said, "I'm sorry. But I couldn't. I couldn't walk by. He needed my help."

Twist looked at him for a moment. In her eyes, a war was happening, a war between anger and fear and worry and love and resentment. It was such a complicated _Twist _kind of look, that it actually settled some of the panic that had been gathering up in his stomach like a flock of birds about to take flight.

By now, everybody had woken up and gathered around. They looked small and pitiful and miserable, with snow in their fur and exhausted eyes. Violet, the tiny thing, looked like she was going to shiver her teeth out. Ren leaned close to her, trying to warm her, but it didn't look like it did any good.

"Streak, help him," Declan said. "Twist, you Lightfoot, Kaltag, and Gravel are coming with me. Adder, you're with Iggy and Petey. That leaves you in charge, Ren. We're going to make a search party." He stopped for a moment. It had been very quiet during his speech, without any sardonic interruptions or dry laughing in the background. He looked around. "Where's Lightfoot?"

Nobody seemed to know. They looked to their neighbors and around rocks, as though they expected Lightfoot to spring up from the ground.

_Stars above, _Declan thought, closing his eyes for a moment. _Is nobody where they're supposed to be?_

"What about me?" Streak asked. "I want to come, too."

"You have to stay and tend to Stripes and Granite."

"Who's Granite?" Gravel asked, trembling beneath his ratty gray fur.

"This tom. I found him in the river." Again, Declan waited, preparing himself for a Lightfoot remark. _Surprising you could catch a cat when you can't even catch prey, _or _You go out looking for two stupid younglings and come back with another mouth to feed. Typical, _but there was no sound at all.

After a moment of silence on all parts, just drawn breath and wind through fur, Declan said, "Let's go."

They broke, everybody heading off in different directions. Before the second group left, Declan pulled Adder close.

"I'm trusting you to be a leader on this one," he said. "You're old enough to show these cats that you're capable. You're not a kitten anymore. You're an adult now."

The young tom looked very serious. "I won't let you down, Declan," he said. "I promise."

"All right." In the past, perhaps Declan would have ruffled his ears with a paw. But now Adder seemed older, older even beyond his moon cycles.

_We are all older, _Declan thought. He felt like an old tom, gray-whiskered and stooped. Nothing was ever going to be the same, even once they returned back home. Everything had changed.

In some ways, that did not feel okay.

Twist was at his side as they bounded down the ravine's slope, matching him step-for-step. Her shoulder brushed his as they ran.

He felt for a moment like he should say something, that he should apologize once more for not putting Hazel as a higher priority, for making Twist worry, for not noticing that his good-as-daughter had left the camp with a tom he still did not completely trust, despite his misgivings about trust in the first place, but then Twist touched his shoulder quickly with her nose, just the tiniest motion, a pinch of cold against his skin, and he knew they had no need for words. They had each other perfectly memorized, from nose to tail, from heart to heart and mind to mind, from the checking of a breath to the slight bend to whiskers. There was nothing he didn't know about Twist. She was open as a flower to him. That would not change.

Even if everything else did.

It didn't take long before Declan realized something was not quite right.

It hit him first as a scent. It was sharp like blood, but tinged with something that reminded him of prey gone too long without eating, or left to rot in the sun. Sour. Bitter. It clotted in his nostrils and made him take pause.

It was probably a stroke of luck on his part, because the instant he stopped, he heard something.

Kaltag froze next to him. His breath was a cloud of white fog, lifting up into the mountains and disappearing before it had gone more than a handful of inches.

"Screaming," he said, turning wide eyes to Declan. "I hear screaming."

Declan felt cold to his very core.

Twist had set herself, grinding her teeth close. "Let's go," she said, and took off up the ridge. After a split second, Declan followed, with Kaltag and Gravel taking up the rear.

At the top of the ridge, illuminated by moonlight, a battle raged.

It was confusing for a moment to see who exactly was battling. It seemed mostly bodies, torn fur and splashes of blood, and even a length of tail severed and seeping in a deep pile of snow to Declan's side.

Then he heard it: laughing.

_Lightfoot. _

She was in the thick of it, coated in blood but still fighting, even despite the long red marks down her side and her missing ear. Her teeth flashed as she dipped and slashed, turned and wheeled, leapt and bit, in a crazy, bloodthirsty dance.

As she felled another opponent with a quick blow of both her paws, she spotted him. One of her eyes was glued shut with frozen blood. The other was a bright and vivid green.

"Declan!" she yowled. "So nice to see you. Just happened to drop in, huh? Well, don't be afraid to join the party! There's plenty to go around!" She sank her fangs into the throat of a young she-cat in front of her, throwing her bodily to the ground. Declan lost sight of her after that, but there was torn white fur in Lightfoot's mouth when she lifted her head once more, and he didn't hear the she-cat scream anymore.

"Help her," Declan said, leaping for the first cat that crossed his path.

It was a large brown tabby with a collar on. It hissed as Declan sized it up: he was bigger but it was stronger, quicker, packed to the veins with bloodlust.

_Wait, _Declan thought, breath catching. _A collar?_

"Watchers!" he shouted to Twist. "They're Watchers!"

"No kidding!" Lightfoot was next to him then, smelling powerfully of blood. Her presence was like a lightning cloud, charged with dangerous energy. "I thought it was the _other_ group of murderous cats who followed us up into the mountains."

Declan shot her a look. "You're missing an ear," he pointed out.

She shrugged. "The Watchers are missing fourteen members by my count. That seems about fair, in exchange for them messing up my beautiful looks."

"You're still beautiful, Lightfoot."

"Sweet," she said, in her sarcastic monotone, eyeing him slyly over one bloody shoulder. "Always a charmer, Declan. Don't push your luck too much, big boy, or you might find yourself sleeping outside."

"I'm already sleeping outside."

A cat lunged at him then, a wild, desperate plunge of motion. He dodged, ducking under its sweeping claws, feeling it pass so closely overhead that its plumy tail brushed across his ears.

Lightfoot caught it when it touched the ground, and that was the end of that.

It seemed never-ending. For every still, snow-dusted pelt lying on the side of the path, there were two more cats rising up the ridge, three more taking off across the flat plateau of stone, four more falling back to guard a massive black tom in the center, who was splashed with blood but looked barely hurt at all: Blackjack.

Fear coursed through Declan at once. He'd seen those eyes before—up close. And the only thing that had saved him there was that Dahlia had been fond of him.

_Dahlia. _If Blackjack was here, did that mean she was, too? Declan didn't know if he would even be able to fight her. She had claimed, through trickery and thievery, a piece of his heart, however resentful he felt at himself for allowing it.

He couldn't raise a claw against her. He could barely defend himself in this battle.

With a caterwauling shout, Adder's party joined the fray. Declan watched them stream down the ridge, Adder leading with ferocity in his pale eyes, Iggy and Petey close behind. They flew across the stone and were on the Watchers before they could even react. Adder himself sank his claws into the back of a huge red tom, shredding ears and face and neck until they were bloody.

Kaltag sprang up to Declan's side, gasping. His side was opened up from shoulder to hip, but it was shallow. Nonlethal. "What do we do?" he asked frantically. "Declan, what do we do?"

Declan looked around. There were more cats here than he remembered from in the barn, nearly three times as many. It was a practical army, flooded with cats with collars and cats without, cats with massive scars down their faces that looked barely healed.

Scars?

But that wasn't the main thing that Declan noticed. He noticed how many cats were here, narrowing the gap between themselves and the much smaller Slider group, coming in from over the rockpiles and from under the shelves, toms and she-cats and younglings ready to prove themselves, all with that same fierce, wild hatred, that insane glint that only came from the fanatical.

They were outnumbered. They could not win. They were not going to walk away from this.

He felt his stomach seize up.

The Watchers closed the line. They were close now, pressing the Sliders together. Declan's flank bumped against Adder's, and he felt the young cat shiver. Iggy was bleeding heavily from the mouth and chest, Petey from his back. Gravel was looking from Watcher to Watcher, hatred burning in his yellow eyes, his claws unsheathed and scratching the stone underfoot.

Twist was at his side. There was a strip of fur torn out of her shoulder. Anger burned in him at the sight of it, but Twist hardly seemed to notice. "There's more cats here than there should be," she said, eyes wild. She turned to him. "Declan."

"I know," Declan said quietly, just for her. It hadn't escaped him, that fact. The fact that this was going to be over. That for the first time, it wouldn't end with them together, victorious, walking away side by side without any more cares, any more worries.

They were going to die.

Twist turned to face him fully, and for the first time in so long he didn't want to think about it, he saw fear in her eyes. He remembered distinctly telling himself that he would never see that again, that he would never allow Twist to feel afraid.

Now there was nothing that could stop this.

_Hazel, _was his first thought. He closed his eyes and imagined her. The kit that he loved, no longer a kit, but a beautiful young she-cat. That little orange splash between her ears. Her tiny white paws that always used to be dirty—Twist used to fuss so much about her dirty paws. And those eyes, blue and yellow, the reason they were in this cold, barren place.

What was going to happen to her when they were both dead?

_Thank the stars that Streak is not here. _Streak would take care of her, watch over her, as he always had. She would never be alone.

Twist pressed close to him, flank to flank, line for line. His equal, in every way.

He bent his head. "I love you," he said.

Twist trembled. She was strong but now she was breaking. "I love you," she said. "Don't leave me."

"Never."

Blackjack strode forward, pacing ahead of the circle. His eyes roved over them. "Three," he said.

Declan took in a deep breath. It was utterly silent. He could hear his own heart beating.

Then he stepped forward.

Blackjack looked at him with cool surprise. "Dahlia, you didn't tell me your friend was helping the devils."

There was another tremendous squeeze in his chest as the lithe, pale she-cat strode forward and joined her brother. She looked small next to him, small and sad and completely out of place of this freezing mountain.

She looked at him. He looked at her.

He felt absolutely nothing towards her.

"Blackjack, don't do this." Dahlia shivered, her fur lifting in the wind. "You've had your blood. Let them go."

"No," Blackjack said. The frenzy was starting up in him, that same tight-laced insanity Declan had seen in him back in the barn, what felt like a lifetime ago. "Those who aid the devils _are_ devils. You know that, Dahlia."

"I know what you've told me," she said. "But Mother wouldn't have wanted this."

"Mother died because of these _things," _Blackjack hissed, turning on her, fur bristling; Dahlia fell away with fear in her golden eyes. "You'd let them go?"

Dahlia was pressed down to the ground, ears flat. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't do this. If you do this, if you take this step, then you will be lost forever to me. Please. Let them go, brother. Let them walk away. It won't cost you anything. Let them go, for me."

She looked over at Declan again, pain in her eyes. Declan tried to look back. He tried to see the good he once saw in her. And even now, as she was pleading for their lives, he could see her twisting him, playing him, trying to find the softest place to dig in her claws.

Then he shook himself of that. Dahlia was trying to help them, to save them. He was resenting her for imagined slights, and it was a waste of time.

Declan said, "I ask that you let us part ways here, Blackjack. These are all the marked cats in the Sliders. There are no more. We will go down this mountain and we will never return. You will never see us again."

Blackjack's teeth were bared. "Lies," he said. "That's all I hear. _Lies. _You and the rest of the devils are nothing but liars. Liars and murderers."

"You're letting your hatred cloud your senses. _Please, _Blackjack." Declan took a step closer, bending his head to the black tom, offering him the sight of a groveling enemy. "I will beg you if that's what it takes. I'll do whatever you want. Just allow us to have safe passage down this mountain."

For a moment, Blackjack just stared at him. Declan could feel those eyes piercing right through his flesh, right into his bones. It was cold, icy as the mountain, and a thousand times emptier.

He strode forward, his walk like silk.

Declan froze completely in place, head still bent, as Blackjack approached. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that it felt like the only sound in the world. _Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump._

He could feel Twist watching him. That was the only thing that kept him standing there, solid despite his wildly-shaking legs, that she was depending on him. It was this moment that would determine their fates. This moment, right now, right here.

So he held perfectly still. He did not fall. He did not stumble.

Blackjack's paws came into his view. They were large and wide. The tips of his claws stuck out through the fur.

Slowly, Declan looked up.

Blackjack was staring at him, speculation in those cold green eyes. Declan could see himself in the reflection, looking small and red and frightened, just like when he'd been a kit. Blackjack was Leo all over again, but this time, Declan might not be the one who walked away.

He was not going to take this like a coward. He would take it like a tom, like a leader, like a cat that Twist could be proud to love.

Declan straightened, feeling his muscles tense and lock.

Blackjack leaned close, so close that Declan could smell Lightfoot's blood on his breath. And he whispered, _"No."_

So quickly that Declan could barely follow it, Blackjack drew back his paw.

"Stop!"

A cat burst forward from the ranks, small and scrappy, thin in the extreme. She looked like a little scrap of nothing, standing there out from the circle.

"I will do it," she said fiercely. "I deserve it more than anybody else. You can't deny it, Blackjack."

Blackjack faced the she-cat, scruff ruffling up with fury. "You dare—"

"You're denying that I get to draw first blood? After what I've been through?" She laughed, right in his face. "You may have lost a mother but I have lost everything. I am owed this, Blackjack."

Declan was having difficulty breathing.

Slowly as snowmelt, Blackjack lowered his paw. "Fine," he spat. "You can kill this tom. But I will kill the devils."

The she-cat moved forward as Blackjack returned to his place in line.

She didn't move like silk. She moved like a rough river, uneven, weaving, heavily on some paws and weakly on others, a rolling motion that drew every eye.

"Your permission?" she asked Blackjack, but it was only a formality.

Blackjack narrowed his eyes. Then he nodded. "You have my permission, Snit."

_Snit?_

Behind him, Declan heard Twist draw in a sharp breath.

The she-cat was right in front of him. Her fur had lost its color, her muzzle was streaked with gray, but beneath the layer of ice and mud, it was ginger tabby, with neat white paws, and small rounded ears.

Almost soundlessly, Declan asked, "How…?"

It was impossible. This could not be happening. This must be a dream, another of his waking nightmares. This could not be real.

Audrey whispered, "Get ready to run."

Then she drew back her lips and struck.

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><p><strong>MMMM. Sweet, sweet reunions.<strong>

**Er, or bloody, violent ones. To be honest, I don't know which I prefer more. XD**

**It's been a long time coming for this chapter. I'm finally it's all out from under my fingers so I can move from here.**

**We're getting very close to the end, now. I can't imagine it lasting more than maybe five or six more chapters. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up, but I've got most of the nitpickier details worked out. I hope it all comes out like I imagine and that y'all like it. I seem to be doing okay so far. **

**I hope everybody has a great Christmas! I know I did. My parents got me a tablet to read off of. A Nexus 7! And I got Bioshock Infinite, a few clothes, the Frozen soundtrack, gift cards for Barnes and Noble, and some really sexy knee-high boots that I was salivating over at Old Navy, so I'd call it a pretty good Christmas for me.**

**Have a good night, everyone! I'll try not to let too much time pass before the next update, but in case I do, have a wonderful new year!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	33. Sight and Blindness

**Hello, readers! So much has happened since we last spoke!**

**I had hideous health problems, which resulted in me losing eight pounds in one week and hallucinating in a Publix soup aisle, but that's all taken care of now. I got ejected from ABNA because I accidentally did not read the rules and went 45k over the word limit. I finished my fantasy manuscript and started piecing together a query letter to send to agents. I had my birthday. I treated mah-self and got a lovely PS3 and FINALLY got to play The Last of Us and Heavy Rain.**

**But most importantly, GAME OF THRONES SEASON 4 PREMIERED YESTERDAY.**

**I'm so excited for this season. I've already read all the books, so I know what's coming, and I am very eager for it. Oh ho ho ho.**

**I'm also excited for Shameless's season finale, but I have to wait until I go back to my apartment on Wednesday to see it. Right now I'm being properly spoiled at my parents' house and enjoying it while I can. My dog Lyra lives here most of the time, so I get to spend some quality time with her, too. She's getting so big! Already forty-five pounds! I miss her being small and fluffy and only eight pounds.**

**Sigh. Time progresses, things get bigger, people get older, and life goes on.**

**On that lovely note, onto the story!**

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><p>Blackjack's surprise was the only thing that kept them alive.<p>

Audrey's claws had found his face. They dug in, ripping free tracts of black fur.

Blackjack howled, furious, but by the time he recovered and gave his orders, Audrey was leading the Sliders plunging down the mountain.

Twist ran at Audrey's side, heart thundering in her chest. Audrey's scent, so familiar, was in her nostrils. But it was different now, weak and thin, just like the she-cat herself.

"Audrey," Declan started, but she cut him off.

"Not now," Audrey said in her raspy voice. "Right now, we run."

"_After them! Don't let them escape!" _Blackjack's yowl was so loud that it rang Twist's head.

The path sharpened, clinging to the mountainside. It was wide enough for one cat only. Snow crumbled off the edge as Audrey shot around it, her tail flying out over the abyss below.

Twist's heart stopped.

"Go!" Declan ordered, shoving Petey forward. Kaltag flew after him, then Iggy, Lightfoot, Adder. Declan turned to her. "You next," he said.

"Not before you," she said, stalling for time. Every nightmare and horror of falling, of darkness, of the shadows that waited below, had come back to her. The cavernous drop yawned before her, empty of anything that could save her if she fell.

From the bottom, she imagined she could see Braiser's yellow eyes. Watching. Waiting. Eager and rabid and hateful.

Gravel had stayed. "Declan, we're running out of time."

"I'll go with you," Declan said. "Gravel, you'll bring up the rear."

The gray tom nodded. "It's all right, Twist," he said quietly. "Everything will be all right."

She couldn't respond. She was trembling.

Declan stayed on the side where the drop began. "Come on, Twist," he said, sounding steady. That was for her. His eyes were full of fear. "We'll go together. Come on now, love. Let's go."

Twist took a few shaky steps. Her lungs felt full of ice and fire. Each movement took so much effort that she wanted to stop, to just stand there, terrified out of her mind, and lie there like a mouse.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't. She would master this.

The edge of the path was a terror. The ground extended further than its support did, lending a tiny space to walk. The edge was thin as a claw.

Declan had to stop. "Go on. I'm right behind you."

Twist felt weak, pathetic. She clenched her teeth and swallowed her fear.

Audrey was waiting on the other side, with Lightfoot standing right next to her, torn and bleeding. They reached for Twist first, hauling her forward.

She let herself go limp as Kaltag's strong jaws locked in her scruff.

The sturdy ground beneath her paws made new air come into her lungs. It felt like her entire body had given way, leaving her tired and weak as a newborn kitten.

Declan's soft paws landed beside her. He dipped his muzzle to hers. "You did so well. I'm proud of you."

"Incoming!" Petey yowled. "Watchers!"

Twist turned.

They poured down the slope like a wave. Blackjack was in the lead. Dahlia was a pale shadow at his side, beaten, miserable. The Watchers looked for them, not spotting them in this tiny slit of a path just yet. It wouldn't take long, though. Then the chase would begin anew.

Audrey was breathing hard. "It's not far from here," she said. "Just a little further."

Declan didn't even ask where she was talking about. "Gravel, let's go!"

"They'll swarm us," Gravel snarled, planting his paws on the ledge. "You all go on without me."

Twist felt life roar back into her veins. She shoved herself up. "No. Absolutely not. We are not leaving you."

Gravel turned around. The wind tore at his fur, but his eyes were steady. "Twist, I'm just an old tom. I knew this was it for me. I want to go out fighting."

She was shaking her head before he was even done. Stars above, would this pain and terror ever end? "No."

Gravel looked up over her head. "Declan, you know this is right. They won't give up. They'll track you. I can stop them for a little while. You use that time to get away. You get these cats to safety, do you hear me? That's an order."

Twist turned to Declan, furious. Expecting him to say something, to tell Gravel to stop all this ridiculousness.

But Declan said nothing. He looked stricken.

Lightfoot spoke for him. Her eyes had lost the killing light. Now they were solemn. "Fight bravely, Gravel. Die well."

Gravel gave a sort of half shrug. "It's the best I can do. Tell Lucky I'm sorry I won't be coming home."

"No," Twist said again.

"There they are!" The call went up. The Watchers knew. They were coming.

"Twist, we have to go. Let him do this for us." Audrey's eyes were bright with pain. "We'll bring your story back to the Warren, Gravel. This won't go forgotten."

"I won't leave you," Twist said. All they went through together—getting captured by the Claws, escaping, living to fight once more, one more battle—and now it was going down like this.

One cat against dozens. One cat saving their lives.

Gravel touched his nose to hers. "You have to, little one. For what it's worth, I'm glad we had this one last adventure together. Goodbye, Twist."

He nodded to someone over her head.

Teeth seized in Twist's scruff, lifting her.

"_No!" _She fought against her captor. "_Gravel!"_

The storm had increased in ferocity. It white-blinded her. She struggled to break free as the snow descended across her vision.

Gravel's back was the last to fade as they fled. His gray fur stood out against the snow. She caught one last glance of him rearing up, frozen against the blinding lash of the storm, his claws extended and teeth bared, and then he was gone. The snow muffled the sound. It was silent.

"No, no," she sobbed as the Sliders fled, following behind Audrey. Whoever was holding her didn't set her down. "We have to go back. We have to go back."

Nobody said anything.

Twist let her mind drift after that. Nothing stuck. Not the fear she felt at being pursued. Not the agony she felt for losing Gravel. Not the pain in her flank from the fight. Nothing.

After awhile, she stopped trying to think. The numbing blankness was a shelter for her. It saved her from screaming or fighting or giving up. Twist wasn't sure which one she'd rather do. She was terrified of finding out.

When the smell of other cats touched her nose, Twist felt nothing but resignation. _Here we are again. Once more, we'll have to fight. Once more, we'll have to run._

The storm had died down during their run. Ahead of them, through the flakes of falling snow, was a short outcropping of rock. On top of which sat a slender red cat who leapt down when they approached.

"I can't believe it," she said. "The plan worked?"

"It's good to see you, Flare." Audrey pressed her muzzle to the she-cat's. "After all this time."

"Almost two moon cycles, by my measurement." Flare had intensely bright yellow eyes. They moved between the ragged pack of cats with interest. "These are the other Sliders?"

"What do you mean other?" Lightfoot demanded.

Flare blinked. "We retrieved the other half of your party while you distracted the Watchers. They are here, being tended to. Your wounded were close to death."

Twist was set down. Her legs couldn't hold her. She fell into a heap.

Declan's voice came from behind her. _So it was him, _she thought numbly. Declan had been the one to carry her this far. He'd kept her from staying there with Gravel.

"How many did you retrieve?" he asked, finally sounding truthful, half to breaking. "How many?"

Flare said, "Seven. Five toms and two she-cats."

_That's one missing, _Twist thought. _Who didn't make it back besides Gravel?_

"Come inside," Flare said. "We have a lot to talk about."

XXX

Flare and her cats lived beneath the mountain in a tunnel so small that Twist barely fit. Declan and Kaltag had to hunch onto their bellies and crawl to squeeze in. A long way in, the tunnel spread out. Thin light filtered in through cracks in the walls, enough to see by. The smell of cats intensified: Audrey had many allies here.

It turned out that there were two missing: Flare had counted the new tom Granite in her totals. Kale and Hazel were nowhere to be seen.

Twist found herself once more. And she found herself furious.

"How did you leave her behind?" she demanded Flare.

"She wasn't there." Flare, despite her fiery pelt, was cool and calm as pond water. "Neither was your white tom Kale. My cats retrieved everybody else. I am sorry for your friend, but there was nothing I could do. I will give you a moment to speak to your cats. Then we can discuss whatever you want." She dipped her head and left, heading back further into the tunnels. After a moment, Audrey followed her.

Twist would not accept that. She wheeled on the Sliders they'd left behind.

"Ren, you were in charge. Why did you allow this? And you, Marco? You were fine with leaving two of your gangmates to freeze?"

Ren was staring at his paws. Marco's fur was standing up.

"I couldn't do anything. You left me behind, too, remember? If I'd been with you in the battle, I could have actually _done _something."

"You were compromised!" Twist snapped.

"So are you!" Marco marched right up to her, nose to nose. His lips wrinkled back. "I heard about what happened to you on the ridge. You had to be carried here. At least when I lost Max, I could walk on my own four paws!"

Twist slashed at him but he ducked away.

"You think hitting me is going to solve anything? Hazel's still gone. Kale's still gone. Don't you wonder if those two things are related?"

"Stand down, Marco," Declan said. "Now."

Marco didn't. "If you want to blame somebody for that, blame yourself. You're the one who allowed Kale to come with us. You're the one who didn't send him away. Hazel's missing. She could be dead. And it's all your fault, Twist."

Twist felt her fur stand on end. "You stupid kit. You don't know anything about loss. At least you _know _that Max is dead. Hazel could be lost on her own! She could freeze to death! We gave Max an honorable burial. Who's going to do that for Hazel if she dies on this mountain?"

Marco didn't say anything to that. His fangs were still exposed.

"If you ever speak to me like that again, I'll…" She couldn't think of anything to say. Words were weak. Actions were better, but she couldn't do anything either.

"You shouldn't have chased her away," Marco said. "You did this, Twist. Not me. Not Ren. You."

Twist looked around for another ally besides Declan. Cascade was nodding. Adder and Violet wouldn't meet her eyes. Lightfoot, always ready for a fight, was silent.

"You all agree with him, then?" she demanded. "Well, speak up. Now's the time."

"We didn't want Kale to come with us," Iggy said gruffly, looking like he'd rather keep his mouth shut. "We didn't trust him. He's Claw-blooded."

"You think I trusted him? You think I wanted Hazel following along behind him like a heartsick little mouse?" She looked at Lightfoot. "What about you? You're not going to say anything?"

Lightfoot looked right at her. "Before we left to fight the Watchers, I saw Hazel leave with _him_. I followed. I didn't trust a single whisker on him."

Twist's heart rose up into her throat. Lightfoot's presence at the battle had been shocking. But she hadn't thought anything of it. Until now.

"And?" Declan asked.

"And I found her. She'd been chased by a wolf. A rabid one. She was hiding in a tunnel close to the battle site. The Watchers found us there."

"Is she… Did she…?" Twist couldn't finish either of those sentences.

Lightfoot bared her teeth. "I sent her running back down the mountainside. Two cats chased her. I lost sight of her after that. Then you showed up."

A wave of relief so strong it made her sick washed over Twist. She fell to her haunches, shivering all over.

"So she wasn't killed by them," Declan said.

Lightfoot shook her head. "No."

"Then we're looking for her alive." Iggy eyed Twist. "Are we looking for Kale, too?"

Anger burned in her. "Kale must answer for his crimes. By Slider claws."

That pleased Iggy. He let out an appreciative growl.

Flare returned with Audrey, along with a scrawny yellow tom with long hair. "This is Bran," Flare said. "He's a healer. He has the report on your two wounded toms."

"We only have one wounded tom," Twist said.

Flare looked politely confused. "Then what of the other? Granite?"

_Granite. _Twist had completely forgotten about him. "He is not one of us."

"He is now." Declan gave her a level look. "We can't abandon him now."

"Did it occur to you how odd it is to find a cat out in the mountains alone?" she hissed. "That maybe he's a Watcher, too?"

Declan shook his head. "That doesn't matter. He's injured. He's in our care. That's all."

Derision rose up in her, strong as bile. She turned away.

Audrey was looking among their ranks, eagerness warring with caution. "Where's Hazel?" she asked. "She's not with the others. Twist, where…?"

Realization fell into her eyes. She closed her mouth.

Twist felt unbearable guilt start up in her stomach. "We have to go back for her. She's alone."

Flare said, "That's unwise. The mountainside is crawling with Watchers. Right now the best thing we can do is stay here and hope our sentries spot her."

"That's not good enough," Twist snarled. "If no one will go, let me. I'll find her and bring her back."

Flare looked at her evenly. "You would put all of us in danger. We have gone unnoticed here. I will not allow you to leave without a solid plan. Otherwise you risk bringing them all down on our heads."

"Our? Who is _our?"_

Flare didn't rise to Twist's snap. Instead, she stepped aside, gesturing with her plumy tail further down the tunnel. "Allow me to show you, Twist."

Twist cast an angry glare at Declan.

He watched her with calm eyes. "This is our best hope," he said.

Twist pushed her way past him, deeper into the tunnel. Behind her came the Sliders, their breaths sharp in the silence of the earth.

It went on for so long. The darkness was absolute. Fear ratcheted up in her chest, making her breath come quicker.

She couldn't allow it to eat her alive this time. That had nearly gotten her killed back on the precipice, where Gravel had had his last stand.

_Gravel. _She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of his kind face. He had been one of the first Sliders she'd ever met. He and River and Flint and Lightfoot and Twist had all survived the Claws' camp, even when Beck did not. When she had been cold and terrified, afraid she'd never see sunlight again, Gravel had comforted her. He'd promised her they would all get out alive.

Now here she was, alive. Without him.

The tunnel branched out and suddenly, warm air touched her cheek. She looked up, blinking in the weak light.

There were many cats here now, tens, dozens. Not all young. Some were older, with gray whiskers around their mouths. Some were barely older than kits, still with soft fur and lanky limbs. Most were Flare's age, old enough to be responsible but young enough yet to not deserve the burden of it.

The space was broken up, branching off into shafts of darkness, like the old healing den in the Warren. The source of the warmth was still a mystery, though Twist was glad for it. It soaked away some of the shivering fear she felt at being lost and found and lost all over again.

Flare stepped along with Bran. "My cats will show yours to some food and places to rest, if you'd like to visit your wounded, Twist."

"Declan is our leader, not me," she said, still marveling at this place. The walls looked almost like crystal. Long, long ago, she remembered a place like this, where the Tribe of Rushing Water had lived, when she had been nothing more than a brainless minion of the gang. That was back when Stripes led her, heart and soul. The walls had been alive with sparks of light and the warmth of other bodies, and she'd wanted that.

Now she knew where her heart truly lay.

"Of course." Flare turned bright eyes on Declan. "Your commands?"

Declan turned and looked at the pack of Sliders. They were worn and beaten, ragged as rats. Twist's heart ached for them, almost in measure with how much she detested them all for keeping their thoughts from her. It made her remember the old days with Stripes and the gang. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she wondered if her loyalty to the Sliders was misplaced. Perhaps she should not have put as much trust in them as she had.

"Go on," Declan urged, nudging Ren and Violet along. "You need to eat something."

Adder stepped forward. "I'll take them, Declan."

"Watch over them."

The group padded on, led by Flare's right paw cat—a young thing they called Blue-Eyed Jack, with black-and-white fur and a missing ear—leaving just Twist, Declan, and Lightfoot.

"You'll need some rest, too," Twist said to Lightfoot. "And you'll need your shoulder looked at. And most of your face."

Lightfoot spared her a pitying glance. "You think I look bad? You should see the other cat. Or cats plural, I should say. My beautiful looks were exchanged for a major dent in Blackjack's forces. Count on that."

Audrey looked between them all. "Declan, why don't you take Lightfoot to see Bran? He's in that tunnel just over there. I'd like to speak to Twist. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." Declan looked uneasily at Twist. "Lightfoot, come on. Don't make a fuss. There are cats watching."

"I'll make a fuss if I want," Lightfoot muttered, but she went all the same, casting suspicious looks at Flare and her cats as she went. They disappeared down the tunnel, leaving Audrey and Twist in relative privacy.

"What is this place?" Twist asked as Audrey led her into a corner full of soft sand. A young cat brought them a rabbit to eat. Twist hadn't seen a rabbit in weeks. Her mouth watered at just the thought of eating some of it.

"The resistance. I met Flare when I was searching for allies. Luckily she hates Blackjack as much as I do. For other reasons." Audrey pushed the rabbit towards her. "Go on. I don't have much of an appetite."

Twist didn't hesitate. She bit into the soft flesh. A shiver ran through her as mouthfuls of meat slid into her empty belly. She attacked the rabbit, heaving down gulps of half-chewed meat, until her stomach protested against the strain.

She licked her lips when she was done. The carcass still had enough to feed another cat, but Audrey didn't even pick at it, despite the lack of flesh on her own bones.

"How did you get in with the Watchers? They knew you. They trusted you." That was the part she couldn't understand the most: _how _Audrey had managed to infiltrate the ranks of somebody so clearly paranoid.

Audrey looked away. "Blackjack is a fool. He wants power over anything else. A fighting force. He doesn't even care where he gets it. I'm sure you noticed how battered his troops were."

"I saw they were scarred."

"On their faces. Now why would that be?" Audrey touched her own face with a paw. "Perhaps they pulled a Sorrow and clawed out one of their eyes."

"Marked cats." Twist shivered. "Does he know?"

Audrey laughed once, derisively. "He doesn't care. Any willing set of claws he can get to fight for him, he does. And you know how the Claws are. They'll turn against their own to keep themselves alive."

_Wouldn't we all, _Twist thought, remembering her fierce flame of hatred for the Sliders that had thankfully died down with a cool bit of reason.

"Whatever was left of the Claws joined him. Whatever faction decided that living was more important than loyalty."

"And the rest?" Twist asked.

Audrey's chin lifted. She indicated the throng behind her, all the younglings eager for a fight. "Flare has been busy."

Twist followed her gaze.

There had been so many at first glance that she hadn't looked at any cat properly. Now that she did, she realized she recognized some of them.

Namely a dark brown tabby with marked eyes.

"Sparrow," Twist breathed. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since the day she'd been reunited with her mother. Now here he was, bending his head to murmur to a she-cat with kits at her belly, looking completely at ease.

Audrey nodded. "Can you believe it? The Rogue's son, right here in the den of his enemies. When I saw Sparrow here, I thought I was dreaming. And he brought friends, too."

More Claws, with unscarred faces, were piled in corners together for warmth, passing prey from mouth to mouth, making sure every cat was taken care of and comfortable. She saw Claw guards she'd hated so ferociously, their faces pressed into her memory like burn marks, humbly sharing rabbits between them, offering the choicest bits to the elderly and the young. Rowan, Declan's mentor when he was mind-twisted into Leo, sat in front of a gaggle of kittens, amusing them with a story of a jay and a fish: cats too young to have known life down in the valley.

Twist's stomach clenched.

Audrey was watching her. "They are allies now, Twist," she said softly.

"They killed cats I knew," she said, snarling the words. "Beck, Kip, Ink. _Snit."_

A look passed across Audrey's face too quickly for Twist to understand. "Yes. But that was before. We don't have time for revenge now. There's no need for that anymore. We are all the same. We have the same goal now."

"Which is what?" Twist said sardonically. "Peace in the forest? Live in harmony? Shall we all huddle close and sing songs of friendship around our meals? You can't be serious, Audrey."

"I am very serious, on the contrary."

"They killed innocents. They kidnapped Sliders for years and brainwashed them. Look at what they did to Declan. Look at what they did to Kaltag. And Lightfoot. And _me."_

"I know." Audrey closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I know, and I'm sorry. But this is life now. This is _my _life. I've done all this to keep you safe and to keep my daughter safe. I want a world where cats don't have to hide in fear that somebody will kill them over their eyes. Do you want Hazel to grow up afraid?"

"Hazel is grown up already," Twist said coldly. "You missed it."

Audrey looked like Twist had clawed her. "I can't believe you just said that."

"I didn't ask you to go away, remember? I begged you to stay. I begged you not to go. Not to leave me with raising your only daughter. I knew I would screw it up. And look at where we are now, Audrey. I screwed up." She bent her head, her throat suddenly tight. "I screwed up," she repeated, the words thin and breathless. "And now Hazel is gone."

She braced herself for Audrey's anger. For the fury of a mother.

She never got it.

Audrey touched Twist's shoulder gently with a forepaw. "I don't blame you," she said quietly. "I don't blame you for any of this."

"You should." Twist was trembling again. She hated herself. "You should blame me. I don't know why you don't. You gave me a duty and I failed you. I couldn't raise her properly. I couldn't keep her safe. I'm sorry."

Audrey's amber eyes were full of something Twist didn't recognize. Something that frightened her. "Hazel will be all right. Flare's sentries will find her. And then she will be safe."

Twist wanted to believe her. But right then, on the soft sand buried beneath the mountain, hiding from what lay outside in the howling gale, she didn't know if she could.

Lightfoot's scream of fury broke the silence.

At once, Flare's cats riled up. A few of them leapt towards the sound, but Flare held them back with a touch of her tail.

Twist did not hold such obedience to the red she-cat. She flew forward, diving into the tunnel.

Inside, Lightfoot was a tornado of sound and motion. Declan and Bran tried to pin her down but she was crawling forward on her belly, dragging them with her.

"I'll kill him, I'll kill him, I'll kill him!" She was out of her mind, her green eyes empty of anything but that killing light. "Let me go this instant!"

"Calm down!" Declan shouted, redoubling his grip on her back. "Lightfoot, calm down. That's an order!"

Lightfoot's lips were wrinkled back from her teeth. "It's him," she said, fixating on the lump of dark fur in the corner. "I knew I smelled him when I set foot in this place. I knew it was him."

"What is going on?" Flare demanded. "Declan, control your she-cat."

"What does it look like I'm trying to do?" he said helplessly as Lightfoot dragged him along on his stomach, his tail matting up with dust. "Oh yes, I'm helping her work on her dancing. She's coming along quite nicely, don't you think?"

"Lightfoot!" Twist leapt in front of her, pushing down her muzzle, forcing her eyes away from the injured cats.

_It's a Claw she knows, _she thought. _It's the Claw that brainwashed her. It's the one who locked her in with the smoke and turned her into Braiser's pet._

But it wasn't.

Lightfoot snapped out of it. All the chaotic energy tuned down into a stiffness in her body. Her breath was shallow and quick, her muscles vibrating with the effort of keeping still.

"It's not me you should be holding down," she said. "It's him." She gestured with her nose—the only part of her she could move, with three cats piled on her back.

Twist followed the motion. "Granite?"

The tom was recovered, but only just. His eyes were watery with injury. His breathing sounded weak and watery.

"We know he's a Watcher," Declan said, panting with exertion. "But he's our responsibility now. He was lost in the woods. He could be a deserter."

"No." Lightfoot's lips curled up, exposing all of her fierce white teeth. "He's not a deserter. I recognize him. He only escaped the battle because he wasn't in it." Hatred sharpened her gaze until Twist thought it would cut the Watcher tom to pieces. "He was the cat that went after Hazel."

* * *

><p><strong>Not exactly a concussive ending. I tried so hard to keep this chapter from being an info-dump. Eventually I decided to split up most of the dump into two chapters. Audrey's side is more interesting to readers than Flare's side, I think, so she can wait for later.<strong>

**Mmm, the cast is dwindling now. I was very upset to part with Gravel, to be honest. I liked writing his good old gritty self. A nice calm voice of reason to cool Twist's anger and spark Declan into being a better leader. He was a better advice-giver than Lightfoot, that's for sure.**

**But anyway, enough jabbering.**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	34. Questions and Answers

**Okay, so maybe this story is going to be longer than I thought. Urgh, I'm trying to trim it down but there's so much to cover. I really should have split it into three books like I did with my last fanfictions. I initially wanted to do that, when I introduced Hazel, but I thought a timeskip would work better. Guuuuuh.**

**Well, it's too late now. Here's the next chapter, full to the brim of walking and talking, sitting and talking, lying down and talking, and standing and talking. Sorry it's such an infodump but the next chapter will be more actiony, I swear. **

**Onto the story!**

* * *

><p>Lightfoot stopped struggling but every muscle in her body was tense. Declan could feel them, hard wires beneath her pelt.<p>

"Let me kill him," she said, sounding rational despite the irrationality of her words. "I'll take care of it. I always have."

"No," Declan said. "He's one of us now."

Beside him, Twist stiffened.

Flare stepped in. "Nobody is killing anybody in my cave," she said, standing between Granite and Lightfoot. "You're under my protection now. All of you. I have too few allies as it is. I don't need to be making anymore enemies."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Lightfoot said, breathing hard. "Clear up the enemies. Starting with this tom."

Flare's eyes were hard. "I wasn't talking about this tom."

Lightfoot curled back her lips. "If you presume to threaten me, you're making a very, very dangerous mistake. I've killed ten cats tonight, and all of them were twice your size. You'd need to come at me with more than words if you think you can take me, little she-cat."

To her credit, Flare didn't back down. "I've seen your like before. You talk big. You fight well. But bloodlust doesn't make you cold. It makes you hot. Hot and stupid. As soon as you saw this cat, your brain turned off. You turned into a mindless animal. Guess what? Animals can die so easily."

Lightfoot scoffed. She stood, easily shoving off Declan, Twist, and Bran. "You're brave, Red. I'll give you that. But you're wrong." She leaned up close to Flare, nose-to-nose. She glared. Flare didn't. "I'm not a mindless animal. I'm a monster. And monsters. Don't. Die."

She walked away, anger gone or at least dissipated for the moment.

Flare watched her go. She didn't look shaken. She didn't look anything but calm and neutral. "She is interesting."

Audrey's lip curled up on one side. "She's gotten worse since I last saw her. She's on a downslide now."

"Doubt it," Twist said, speaking for the first time since Lightfoot's outburst. "She's the strongest cat I've ever met."

Declan watched her from the corner of his eye. Something had changed with her. He didn't know what yet. But it didn't sit easy with him.

Bran was trembling. All his pale yellow fur was riled up. "Is she usually like that?"

Declan laughed once, hollowly. Nothing was funny anymore. It hadn't been in a long while. "Generally. It's the times when she's not when I get really worried."

Bran shook his head. "You can speak with your wounded now, if you like. While you can. I imagine if that she-cat comes back, I'll have one fewer patient."

"I'm already on that," Flare said. "I'll get Blue-Eyed Jack to take care of setting a guard in front of this cat. There will be no fighting here." She eyed Declan hard. "I expect you'll have your group follow that order."

"Of course, Flare. I understand."

"Good." Flare looked to Audrey. "Will you come with me? I want to go over what happened while you were away."

"I'd like to know that, too," Declan said. Flare's group was a total enigma. Why were there old Claw guards in it? And why had some turned against their brothers and joined the Watchers?

But Flare shook her head. "Not today. Tonight you'll rest and get your strength up. Tomorrow we will discuss history." Without another word, she turned and left.

Audrey lingered for a moment. "You'll have to excuse her," she said. "Flare is very single-minded. This group practically worships her. She's led them out of some pretty dark stuff."

"And you?" Twist asked. She was hunched miserably, looking smaller than usual. Her eyes were dark. "Do you worship her?"

Audrey looked affronted. "Of course not. I've always had my goals. I've not lost sight of that."

Twist just looked at her and said nothing.

Audrey puffed up. "If you've got something to say—"

"Go and see what Flare wants, Audrey," Declan said gently, nudging her with a forepaw. "We don't have any need for a quarrel now."

She gave him a cross look. "I only want what's best for everybody. If you can't understand that, then maybe it's you who changed, not me."

She followed Flare out, leaving them alone once more.

Twist eyed her retreating figure sullenly.

Declan, trying to lighten her, said, "Our Audrey's spine has grown stronger, it seems."

Twist didn't say anything.

Granite was still looking frightened from Lightfoot's screaming as Declan approached. He curled in his nest of mountain lichen, the remains of a vole in front of him. He looked up with rheumy eyes. Despite his size, he was quite young. Declan hadn't noticed before, with his fur heavy from water, but his pelt was still youth-soft.

"Their healer says I have water in my lungs," he said. His voice was aspirated. "If I keep coughing, it'll irritate the insides and make me sicker. If I don't cough, the water will make me sick anyway."

Declan settled down next to him, tucking his paws beneath his chest. Twist remained standing. "I'm sorry you're hurting," he said. "And I'm sorry to bother you, but we have some questions."

Granite breathed in, his breath whistling. "Okay."

"Is what Lightfoot said true? Are you the cat who chased Hazel?"

Granite looked down at his paws. They were brown, banded with black. "Yes. My brother and I did."

"Where's your brother now?"

"Dead." He blinked heavily. "Drowned."

That explained the broken ice back on the river. Declan's heart squeezed for him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"We joined the Watchers together. We were just housecats. Our mother still lives in the town. She didn't come with us to the mountains. She's expecting both of us back." He looked up at Declan now, watery eyes brimming with pain. "How am I going to tell her that Blaze isn't coming home?"

Declan reached out a paw and rested it on Granite's forearm. "She knew it was dangerous for you to come. She knew it was what you wanted to do. That you thought you were doing something important." He took in a deep breath. "But you weren't. This isn't important. This isn't a game. You are hunting your own. Real cats. With families like yours. With brothers like Blaze. With fathers and mothers and children. However Blackjack made it seem, it is not that way, Granite. You must believe me."

Granite was shaking his head, but not in denial. It was confusion. "Blackjack said… He said that the odd-eyes were killers. That they were wrong inside. Monsters."

"Does it look that way?" Declan asked quietly. "You've seen us. We rescued you from the water. We fed you, kept you warm, kept you safe. Is that something a monster would do?"

"Cunning, maybe," Granite said. "An act. Or maybe you're just pretending to be kind so that I'll trust you."

"We have nothing to gain from that. My only concern is that you're all right. And that my daughter is safe." He leaned closer. "Do you remember what happened with Hazel? Did she leave? Did she…fall into the river?"

The few heartbeats that passed between Declan's asking and Granite's answered seemed like a lifetime.

And then Granite shook his head. "She didn't fall in. She walked away and left me there. She went back across the river. I lost sight of her then."

Declan closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Thank you, Granite." He stood.

Granite's fear reawakened in his eyes. "You're not going to kill me, are you? Blackjack always said the odd-eyes don't keep their prisoners. You're not odd-eyed, but you're their leader. Does that make you like them?"

"We aren't like you were told. We're just like you. I promise." Declan looked down at Granite's nest. "I'll have someone get you some more comfortable bedding. Please tell me if there's anything else I can do for you."

Uncertainty slowly replaced the fear. Granite lowered his head to his paws and said, "Thank you."

Declan nodded. "You're welcome. I'll come back a little later to check on you."

Once they were outside the den, Declan held his breath waiting for Twist to pounce on him.

She didn't. Instead, she headed away from where the rest of the Sliders were resting, choosing a spot along the far wall. Weak sunlight spilled from a drafty hole in the ceiling. She sat with her back to him, curling her tail around, her head down low.

Declan almost went to her, but a voice stopped him.

"I wouldn't." He turned around to see Stripes approaching. Bran had done up his throat in a paste of yellow and green leaves that smelled astringent. His eyes were a little less dull than usual. "She'll turn on you."

Declan was surprised that Stripes had lasted so long. His delivery from the ravine seemed to have invigorated him. The smell of blood from his throat was almost negligible.

"She can't be alone," Declan said. "She'll get stuck in a spiral. She makes rash decisions when she's upset."

"You seem to know her well."

Declan didn't like the emphasis on _seem. _"I'm her mate. I love her."

"She told me." Stripes shrugged, then winced as it tugged at his healing flesh. "To be honest, I'm surprised."

"Why?"

He glanced over. His eyes were yellow, like Twist's, but they had a deadness to them that Twist's had never had. "Cats raised like Twist and I were? I didn't think we could feel anything. I thought that we were all stone-hearted."

"Twist told me you all had siblings, parents, mates. You're telling me you felt nothing towards them?"

"Twist's mother killed her mate," Stripes said. "And my mother left me alone in the gang before I could even hunt for myself. I don't even know who my father is. I've never taken a mate, never had a family. So yes, I'm saying I felt nothing towards them. We were together for necessity, not out of any sense of loyalty."

Declan looked away from him, back towards Twist, still hunched, and the Sliders, eating their first real meal in so many days. Streak was walking among them, dipping his head close, making sure everybody was comfortable.

"Then you will never know how it feels to love somebody," Declan said. "How strong it makes you. How much better you become through it."

Stripes didn't huff or scoff. Instead, he looked a little wistful. "I suppose not. But I'll tell you, Declan: I lost my gang. They're dead and gone." He glanced over. "You will not lose yours while I am still alive. I will help you. I know these mountains better than anybody here. They're pressed into my bones."

"That's quite a declaration for a cat who can't feel anything." But Declan said it without heat, just shock.

The other tom's mouth twisted. "Don't make this sappy. I mean it just as I said." He walked back to the rest, flicking Declan with his tail. "You're a good cat, Declan. You must be. Otherwise Twist wouldn't have picked you."

He left Declan there, wondering, worrying, praying that Twist would come to him.

XXX

As night fell and the cats of the crevice took to their sleeping places, Declan's prayers went unanswered.

He placed his shoulder against Kaltag's, but he didn't sleep. All around him, the Sliders slumbered more deeply than they had since they left the valley. Adder was curled into a tight ball, his tail over his nose. Ren and Violet were nestled together so closely they looked like one cat, all legs and tails and draped forepaws. Lightfoot stretched out, claws scratching in her sleep. Even Marco was deep in sleep, his forepaws twitching close to his chest.

But Declan did not. He stayed awake, chin on the warm bed of feathers and mountain lichen, staring out into the darkness of their corner.

Flare had kept her word—_and _kept him in the dark about what she knew. Enigmatic as the fire her pelt resembled. She and Audrey had vanished into one of the crevice's caverns, along with Blue-Eyed Jack and Flare's general Whirlaway, a dark brown tom with long legs and marked eyes.

As much as he was surprised and relieved to see Audrey, Declan was still aghast as how much she'd changed. She'd been open and friendly and kind before. Now she was hard, rough-pelted, wild. Like a wildcat.

_Like a mountain cat, _he thought, closing his eyes. What had changed her so much? Had it been her time after Snit had died, when she'd disappeared the first time and reappeared on the edge of giving birth? Had it been when Hazel's littermates had been born breathless and still? Or had it been when she'd decided the best thing to do was leave behind her only kit and the only friends she had in the world for a throwaway chance of killing Blackjack?

She'd come so far, always drawn to the wrong cats. To Wisp, a false mother. To Snit, the hard-hearted secret lieutenant of the darkest evil the valley had ever seen. To Toby, Hazel's father, a tom who stripped mice of their skin and broke birds' wings for pleasure.

And now to Flare.

Declan fancied himself a trustful cat. After all, he had trusted Twist the instant he'd met her, up here on this very mountain where he'd come to find _something _he knew he was missing. He'd trusted the Sliders—eventually—and he'd trusted Stripes, despite what he knew about the old gang leader.

He wanted to trust Flare. He should. She'd taken risks to keep them safe.

But through all of this, through the Claws and the Sliders and now the Watchers, trust seemed like something far out of reach. Like the sun hiding, golden and warm, behind a band of storm clouds.

Twist did not come to sleep beside him. She remained in her corner, staring out a cleft of rock into the mountainside. As Declan drifted uneasily into sleep, she remained there, stalwart as stone.

His dreams were turbulent. In them, Hazel appeared, sometimes alive, sometimes not. He saw her climbing the mountainside towards him, eyes shining. He saw her body dusted with snow, her claws torn and missing, her fur ripped. He saw her as a tiny kit at his chest, blind to the world and its hate. And he saw her as an adult, far from here, someplace green and warm and comfortable, and she was happy.

When he awoke, comfortable and full for the first time in a long time, Twist had moved.

Declan stood. He yawned, so long that his body shivered with pleasure, and looked around.

Flare's cats had come back from outside recently—there was snow in their fur. Prey dangled from their mouths, sometimes birds, sometimes furred things. Declan watched as they approached the Sliders, heads bent low, nonthreatening.

A cat walked up to Declan, shoulders strong with muscle. He looked out of place from Flare's young group, battle-scarred and rough-pelted as he was.

Declan blinked. "Sparrow."

The Rogue's son. Spirit's savior. The one who'd stolen her away from his twisted father and delivered her to freedom.

Now he stood before Declan, looking calm and so at ease.

He set down the young rabbit in his jaws at Declan's paws. "Hello, Declan. How are you feeling?"

"I'm…fine." He was still reeling. "How on earth did you get up here?"

Sparrow sighed. Sinking down onto his haunches, he said, "It's not particularly interesting. After Lucky kicked us out of the Warren, we wandered for a bit. Sorrow grew colder. If you can imagine," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I grew sick of it. When we stopped for the night, I snuck away. I started living closer to the town. There was food there. No-pelts would feed me, sometimes. I had…friends."

_Spirit, _Declan thought.

Sparrow made a noncommittal gesture with one paw. "I don't like killing. I don't like hurting cats. I saw what Blackjack and the Watchers were doing and I wanted to stop it. I knew they were going to head up into the mountains and I wanted to know why. So we came up here." He looked over into the crowd of cats. His marked eyes softened. "We liked it here. So we made it our home. It was easier for me. Not for her."

"Her?" Declan asked, before he could help it. "Spirit?"

"Spirit?" Sparrow gave him an arched look. "You think she'd want to come back up here? After all that happened to her? Not likely. No, I meant—"

"Sparrow." Twist had just ducked beneath the entrance to the crevice. Her back was powdered with snow. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

Declan tried to meet eyes with her but she wouldn't look at him. The nervousness he'd been feeling since yesterday redoubled.

"Twist." Now Sparrow sounded strange. Stiff. "It's good to see you again."

Twist caught on instantly. Narrowing her eyes, she said slowly, "Sparrow. Why are you here without your sister? Where's Sorrow?"

_Oh. _Declan had completely forgotten about her. It had been easy to forget one past enemy in the face of a much more present one.

Sparrow's odd demeanor changed. Coldness entered his stance. "She's not here. I left them behind. Whoever was left."

"I see Rowan is here." Twist tipped her head to where he was talking softly to Cascade. The she-cat was chatting eagerly back.

"Yes. A few more. The younger ones. The ones who were not so loyal to the cause. The older ones stayed with my sister until Blackjack picked them off like mice. The last time I saw Sorrow, she was almost alone. It was just her and maybe three or four Claw guards." He looked at his paws. "She'll think I betrayed her. I did betray her."

"No," Declan said. He rested his tail on Sparrow's shoulder. "You did the right thing. You knew she was lost. There was nothing you could do."

"You had to save yourself," Twist said. "It was in your best interest."

Declan cut his eyes towards her. _What has happened to you, Twist?_

Sparrow was still looking at his paws, his mouth at a crooked slant. "That doesn't make it feel any more right."

Declan made a sympathetic sound. "You're here now," he said, trying to soothe him. "You're doing the right thing. Flare seems to be a capable leader."

Maybe that would convince the tabby tom to give a little information, Declan thought. Sparrow was an ally—that much he could count on. But could he count on Flare?

Unfortunately, he was disappointed.

"Oh, she is," Sparrow said, nodding. "And you can't imagine how good it feels to have a leader who's…stable. After so long under my father, Braiser, Sorrow… It just feels like I'm doing the right thing."

"I'm happy for you." _Even though you didn't tell me what I wanted to know. _Declan could hardly be dissatisfied at Sparrow's newfound peace, though. He'd gone through so much his whole life. Maybe this life up in the mountains, fighting a cause, was enough.

_Maybe we could make a home here, too. _Declan could see it. There was plentiful prey this side of the mountain. Cats to protect and be protected by. Kittens and mothers and fathers and fighters. A family.

It was no Warren, but maybe it didn't have to be. Maybe they could be free here, hidden in the crevice.

It seemed almost too far away, like a dream. Could marked cats be safe here? Could they really be safe anywhere?

Twist remained taciturn, so it was up to Declan to say, "Well, we won't keep you. You look busy."

"Flare sends us out every morning for prey. The patrols go in shifts. We just finished the half-morning. Now we'll have a midday, half-evening, sunset, half-midnight, midnight, half-dawn. It goes on and on. And in between we have sentry shifts. I'll have to show you where some day when I have one of the shifts. Flare keeps us busy. Vigilant. Vigilance is how we stay alive. That's what Flare says."

"You think highly of her," Twist said.

"Of course. She saved us. She's so smart. Smarter than my father ever was. Even smarter than Lucky."

"That remains to be seen," Twist replied, with uncharacteristic venom.

Declan blinked. "Twist."

But she'd already started away, slinking back to the Sliders' area of the crevice.

Declan turned to find some words to apologize for her, but Sparrow waved her down.

"Flare told us about your missing cats. Your daughter and her mate. I'm sorry."

_Mate. _Declan hadn't thought of Kale that way before. It made him feel…conflicted. "It's your brother, you know. Kale."

Sparrow's mouth twitched. "I know. But I haven't seen him since he was a kit. He and two of our other younglings separated from the group not long after Lucky kicked us out. We figured they'd come back eventually but they never did. Sorrow wanted to train him up. A new Claw leader. The Master's last and greatest son." His words were astringent. "I suppose Bronze and I were nothing but stand-ins. And Kale wasn't even marked."

"He's a good cat," Declan said. "He cares about Hazel. I don't know much but I know that. He loves her."

It looked like Sparrow wanted to say something else. "Declan, about Kale…" He paused, hesitant, but then—

A bundle of white-and-tortoiseshell fur slammed into him, nearly knocking him to the ground. "I'm back from my day patrol! What are you doing all the way over here? You promised that we could go hunt when I got back from…" She looked over then, and her eyes nearly bugged out in shock. "_Declan?"_

Declan felt equally shocked. "_Anole?"_

Twist's half-sister, not back in the housefolk town with her mother and Teddy, but right here, right in front of him, rigid with astonishment.

Anole recovered first. She immediately charged at Declan, barreling into his side and laughing. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought you and Twist were—Oh! Is Twist here too? Where is she? I have to see her. I have to tell her that—"

"Not now," Sparrow said, whispering the words between gritted teeth. "You have to—"

Anole didn't seem to hear. She was chattering at top-speed, her tail waving around wildly. "I hardly expected to see you up in the mountains, Declan! I thought that Twist was over all of this. She's so against everything related to the mountains. All my mother ever goes on about his how dangerous they are and how awful cats live up here and blah, blah, blah, but you know what? I love it! And I'm good at living here, aren't I, Sparrow? Tell Declan how great I am."

"Anole is great," Sparrow said faintly, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

Slowly, very slowly, all the pieces were falling into place. Sparrow's awkwardness about his "friend." His sudden stiffness when he saw Twist. And now, his mortified expression as he watched Anole go on and on about living in the mountains.

"So," Declan said, interrupting Anole in mid-word—she gave a little huff of indignation—"you two are…?"

They looked at each other, then away, embarrassed.

"Oh," Declan said. _Twist is going to have to murder Sparrow now, too. Stars, are none of the Rogue's sons safe anymore?_

"Well," Anole said, a little overly bright, "I want to see Twist now. Where did she go?"

"Over…over there. By the stack of prey."

Anole gave a little cheery sound and headed away, tail in the air.

As soon as she was gone, Sparrow gave him the guiltiest look. "I didn't mean to. W-we really were just friends, but then…"

"It's all right," Declan said, feeling a bit lighter now. _Young love in the midst of a war. Good grief. Doesn't that sound familiar. _"You might be on Twist's list of soon-to-be-dead toms, though. Along with your brother Kale."

He expected Sparrow to laugh or at least looked relieved.

Instead, he looked drawn. His eyes grew hollow. "Declan, I have to tell you, before I lose my nerve. There's something you should know about my brother."

At once, the lightness in Declan's belly turned to stone. "What do you mean?"

He glanced around behind him. All of the other cats were busy, not listening. Most were surrounding the pile of prey, loving the luxury of being able to choose what they wanted to eat.

Then Sparrow turned back. He looked uneasy. "I did go back. Once. To my sister. It had been a few moon cycles of living in the town, but I found them. They were starving in the woods. It was winter by then." He swallowed. "Sorrow had joined up with the Watchers."

Declan closed his eyes. _No. No, no, no. _

Sorrow was formidable. She was wickedly intelligent. She was bloodthirsty. And above all, she would not stop. She would never stop, not until every Slider was dead for crossing her. She had promised as much.

"Blackjack doesn't know she's marked. She put out her eye. He's bewitched by her. She became his most useful asset. He would send her out into the woods to search out more marked cats. She was…more comfortable there.

"That was where I found her. And that was where she'd found Kale." He paused then. "I wasn't in her confidence any longer, so she didn't tell me anything. But I knew, I _knew, _that she had done something to Kale. He wasn't with his two friends anymore, and he wasn't the Kale I remember. He'd lost his spark."

A sinking feeling was starting in Declan's stomach. "When was this?" _Please don't be when I think it was, _he prayed. _Please don't be after Twist and I made Hazel leave him._

Sparrow's mouth twisted again. It was almost like a wince. It took everything in Declan not to flinch from the memory of the Rogue and Bronze using that exact expression.

"Moon cycles ago. Before the leaves fell. The end of the hot season."

Declan felt like his legs would give out. _Oh, stars. It was then. He went to Sorrow because I forced Hazel from him._

Declan had broken the young tom's heart. And he'd gone straight to the cat in the forest who hated the Sliders the most.

He licked his lips. "And Sorrow? What did she do with him?"

Sparrow looked up at him from beneath his brows. "What do you think she did?" he asked weakly. "What she did to all of us. Me, Bronze, every Claw guard who was ever born with marked eyes. She made him hate the Sliders. She made him thirsty for blood." He breathed in deeply. "And she made him come for you. For your marked cats. For Hazel."

* * *

><p><strong>Awwww yeah. It's what you all guessed, all this time. Sorry for breaking some hearts, I suppose, but I do love to do that. :3<strong>

**I've noticed that a lot of people are favoriting and following. Thanks, new readers! I hope you're enjoying the story! If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to review or PM me. I don't reply to reviews as much as I do to PMs, since reviews sort of clog up my word count, I've noticed, but feel free to do whatever! **

**I'm gonna go watch _The Walking Dead _now. I'm at the end of season three and things are heating UP. GUH.**

**I'm not quite as addicted to it as I am to _Game of Thrones, _but it's a good show. Not as actiony as I thought a zombie show would be, but not exactly "_General Hospital _with five minutes of zombies" like my dad says. **

**Well, that's enough of that!**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	35. Innocence and Instinct

**It's been awhile! I've been trying to find a big girl job, so that's been taking up most of my time. Plus side - I've had two interviews! Minus side - I haven't gotten a job yet. I WILL VALIANTLY WAIT.**

**Without further ado, onto the story!**

* * *

><p>It was so cold.<p>

The wind was fierce as claws. It sliced down through the trees, through the stiff, frozen leaves and skeletal, reaching branches. Snow was spiraling down from the sky, landing in delicate flakes that Hazel trod beneath her paws.

It was cold. But so was she.

She felt nothing, not the temperature, not the sweep of the wind, not the ground that turned from pebbles to rock beneath her paws. Nothing.

In a way, she knew this was bad. But the part that cared, the part that was Hazel, was buried somewhere deep in the back of her mind. That part was weak. Necessary, yes. But weak. It would do her no good in this frozen world.

She needed to be nothing. And so she was.

The mountain didn't look forlorn anymore. It didn't look frightening or barren. It looked like a place, just as the valley was a place. But the valley was for softpaws, for youth. She was no longer a kit. She couldn't afford to be.

The best way to meet up with the others was to go back to the camp in the ravine. In her happiness to go with Kale, she hadn't noticed the direction they'd taken. It would take some searching to find the Sliders again, but she could do it.

Tipping her head back, she breathed in.

Moss. Rock. Water. Small, hot-blooded things that made her heartbeat kick. Bigger feathered things that were as much a danger to her as things that crawled on the ground.

It felt like she could concentrate more easily now. Like everything that had been bothering her, distracting her, was lifted from her. A weight from her shoulders.

Hazel took to the path leading up from the riverbed. Her paws were frozen. Icicles clung to her fur. She shook them off with a blasé flick of her paw and kept moving.

The area started to look familiar. Here was the tree that looked like the wind broke its back. Here was the dip in the ground where something had once made a nest; it was empty now, the scent stale.

And here, she noticed as she rounded the corner, was the rock where she'd hidden from the wolf.

The wolf's rabid scent was still in the area. It smelled bitter, astringent, like fresh leaves and old, sour blood. She had come so close to dying on that rock, but she hadn't. She'd won. Just like she'd won over Blaze and Granite, her would-be killers.

The ravine split the sky. Mist floated through it like breath. Hazel pulled herself up from the ridge and moved in, keeping her pawsteps silent.

The ravine was empty. No nests. No collected prey. Nothing but an old bloodstain where the broken tom Stripes had lain.

Hazel stopped, her tail dropping. She had been so certain that they would be here, waiting for her. Had they moved on? Had something moved them?

A noise in the bushes. Hazel moved before she even realized, ducking into a juniper tree with berries frozen hard as stone. She hid beneath the leaves and watched as a group of cats moved into the area.

A stark black tom, a pale cream she-cat, a brownish tom with youth-soft fur. They ranged in the ravine, noses to the ground, backs bristled.

Except for the she-cat.

"Please," she said. Her voice was trembling. "Please, Blackjack. No more. No more of this. Let them go."

The tom, the terror, the fiend that had drove them from their home, turned on her. "What?" he asked, voice low and deadly.

The she-cat didn't back down, but she bent her head. "They are not worth this. This is foolish. You've taken us away from everything, from our home and your housefolk and my _life. _You did all of this on something that happened so many seasons ago. Do you even remember Mother's face?"

"Stop it, Dahlia" Blackjack snarled. He stalked over to her. "Don't you _dare—"_

"I don't," Dahlia said, sounding close to sobbing. "I hate myself, but I don't. I don't remember what she looks like. But I know she wouldn't want this for you."

"Don't talk as if you know—Don't pretend that—" Blackjack couldn't even form a coherent sentence. He whirled on the brown tom. "Get out of here. Go find the others and tell them to regroup."

The cat didn't hesitant a second. He turned and was gone, his pawsteps vanishing, swallowed up in the storm.

Blackjack turned back, after a long moment. "Dahlia," he said, sounding infinitely quieter. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do," she said. "I've thought about this for so long, Blackjack. I've tried to tell you so many times. The cats that killed Mother, those are the same cats you invited into the Watchers. You're living with the enemies around you. They are not out here in the mountains."

Blackjack paced, his tail lashing. "_Lies," _he hissed. "Your time with the Sliders ruined you. I knew I shouldn't have let you go. I knew that tom would destroy your senses. And look. I was right."

Dahlia managed a little laugh. "It wasn't him. It was me. I lived my whole life in your shadow, Blackjack. I followed you, looked up to you, worshipped you. You're my big brother. I loved you."

Blackjack stopped very suddenly. "Loved?" he repeated. "_Loved? _Dahlia, what—"

Dahlia stepped closer to him. She had shining eyes, golden as the sun. Hazel hadn't seen the sun in so long, but she recognized it in this she-cat, this Watcher, this sister of Blackjack, the cat she hated more than anybody else alive.

"You are wrong, brother," she said, eyes searching his. "You are running full-speed for a cliff. And I will not follow you to that."

It was silent. Blackjack was breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking. It looked as though he would shake apart before he could get another word out.

Then:

"No." Blackjack sounded calm, but he was still shaking. "_You _are wrong, sister. They've blinded you. Twisted you. They have changed your mind against you will. You were weak against them. You must be strong. You must stand with me. For the Watchers. For the greater good."

"Blackjack—"

But Blackjack was shouting now. "I have lived my life with 'the greater good' on my lips, and I _will not_ yield now because you ask me to."

Dahlia's eyes flashed. "Cats have died with those words on their lips. I wanted to spare you that. I wanted you to be the brother I used to know, before you launched on this rampage. Before you lost yourself in your _cause." _She spat the word out like acid. "But I will not stand by idly and watch you destroy yourself. I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" That caught Blackjack so by surprise that all the anger left him in one sweep. His shoulders bowed.

"Leaving." Dahlia already moved to back up, away from him. She was shaking her head with every step. "I can't watch you die."

"Then you're turning your back on me." He sounded dry, flat as stone. He hadn't moved. "You're turning your back on everything we stand for, everything we promised each other after Mother died. Everything? That meant nothing to you? The Watchers mean nothing to you?" Then, in vulnerable voice that didn't fit this rough, terrifying tom, added, "_I_ mean nothing to you?"

"You can't stop me," Dahlia said weakly. Her resolve was failing. Hazel could see it even from here. The sorrow that was dawning on her face. The fear that was edging it. "I'm going home. I'm leaving this. I don't want this. And you can't stop me, Blackjack."

Blackjack started to laugh. It was a terrible sound, half pain and half hysterical, wild amusement, like he was watching everything he loved be destroyed.

"Can't I?" He swaggered forward, his tail coming up, the light leaving his eyes. "This world is full of enemies and I will drive them out like rats. If you don't stand with me, you stand against me. You've always been a pretty flower, Dahlia. Pretty flowers can't survive in the mountains."

Dahlia tried to run. She turned, forepaws out, reaching, straining for ground, but Blackjack was on her like a shadow.

Dahlia screamed. The sound was distant. It echoed in the ravine until it sounded like a thousand voices.

Hazel felt the feeling come back into her body, drowning out the numbness with an ocean of terror. She crouched down, staring at the ground, trying not to make a sound as Blackjack snarled and Dahlia sobbed and begged, until all the sound stopped.

Only then did Hazel look up.

Dahlia was prone on the ground. A flower of blood blossomed around her.

Blackjack stood over her. There was blood on his mouth, his neck, his chest. It was already crystallizing to ice.

There was a terrible expression on his face. It was so foreign that it didn't even look feline.

And then it was gone, replaced by an astonishment so strong it sapped all the strength from Blackjack's legs. He half-sank to the ground, a cry breaking from his chest.

"_You made me do this!" _he howled. "I didn't want this! You should have stayed with me. You should have—You could have—You should have _stayed with me!" _

He bent his head and made as if to press it against his sister's. He stopped at the last second, drawing himself up. The wind ruffled his fur, driving it into the hard muscles of his shoulders, his back, his neck.

He had that look in his eyes again. The light was gone. It was just green and swallowing blackness.

"You were wrong," he said, turning his back. "You were wrong, not me. And I'm going to show you."

Without another word, without another look back, he vanished down the mountainside. Hazel lost track of him in the fall of the storm until not even his pawprints remained.

Dahlia was lying on her side when Hazel approached. Hazel'd thought the she-cat was dead, but shallow breath lifted her flanks, quick and hard.

Her pretty, sun-colored eyes were wide. "What's happening?" she asked, gasping. "I can't—I can't feel my paws. I can't—"

Hazel crouched near her. Gently, she said, "You're dying."

Dahlia coughed. Blood splashed onto the ground by her muzzle. "No," she said. "No, no, no, no, I'm not. I can't be. Blackjack, he didn't—"

"He ran off. I don't know where. I didn't see."

Dahlia's eyes rolled back in her head. The wound at her throat was the one killing her. Each panicked breath sent more precious blood pumping out. It was lining the snow.

"Please make it stop," Dahlia said. She looked up at Hazel, desperation in her face. "I don't want to go. I don't want to die!"

Hazel's heart squeezed. There was no helping. This she-cat was on her way across Declan's sea, even as she sat here and pleaded. "I'm sorry."

"You're marked," Dahlia said. "Are you like Blackjack always told me? Are you heartless?"

The question stung. Mostly because she'd watched a cat almost get swallowed by the river and felt absolutely nothing. Mostly because she wasn't sure who she was anymore, if she were a Slider or a marked cat, or which one was more important. Living a lie or living with a target on her back.

"No," she said, almost too defensively. If Dahlia had been more aware, she might have noticed.

But the Watcher was already fading fast. She lay her head back down and opened her mouth, pulling in air slower than she could get it out. "I know you," she said.

"You know the Sliders, not me."

"I lived with them. I met you there. Hazel."

A cold claw ran down Hazel's back. _You're mistaken, _she almost said. _I don't remember you._

But she did, it was coming back to her. It felt like so long ago, like another life. The Warren. Her box-nest. Playing innocent kit games with Streak, back when they were only friends and things didn't feel so complicated. "You were the traitor. Back in the valley. You sold out our cats to the Watchers. I remember you. I hated you."

With a sigh, Dahlia rested her head down. "I lived with the Sliders for four seasons. I knew your mother, Audrey. I escaped because I threatened Declan. I told him I'd tell my brother about you, about your eyes, if he didn't let me go. And he let me go."

Hazel recoiled away from her. "And what do you expect from me now?" she demanded. "Pity? I can't pity the cat who threatened to have me killed."

But Dahlia just shook her head. She was fading. Each word was weaker than the last. "No. I don't want your pity, Hazel. But I do want…your understanding. I'm vain enough for that. I knew your mother, like I told you. She was kind to me. That was why I didn't tell anybody when I noticed she'd joined the Watchers."

"_What?" _All her life, Hazel had heard stories of Audrey, of how smart she was, and loving, and how she fought so bravely. But she had never been told this.

"I knew what she was there for. She was trying to take down my brother. Trying to kill him. My only blood left." Her eyes closed. "And spirits forgive me, I let her try.

"She recruited others from the forest. You are too young to remember the battle of the Claws and the Sliders. It nearly ripped the valley apart. Even housecats like the Watchers were affected. My mother was killed by the Rogue, the leader of the Claws. My brother never forgot."

"Blackjack kills marked cats because of _that?" _As far as revenge went, it was hollow. The Rogue was dead. He'd been killed long ago by the Sliders. His body had been swept away by the river. The valley had forgotten but not forgiven. Twist had always said it lost its magic that day, when the Rogue's dark head slipped below the water. The world was dangerous. The Rogue had proved that.

The wind rose. Dahlia shivered. "Yes. Audrey worked her way into the ranks. She went by another name. Snit."

"My father's name."

Dahlia gave her a confused look. "No, that was her friend's name when she was young. He was killed in the battle with the Claws. He loved her. Dearly. She told me about him when we served together in the Watchers. I was jealous." She breathed in sharply. Her breath wheezed, stuttering with blood. "Your father was a cat called Toby. He was marked, like Snit was. That was why…she'd chosen him. He was in the Watchers, too. The only marked cat Blackjack ever allowed. That he knew of. Many Claws cut out one of their eyes and joined at Audrey's call, and now most of the Watchers are full of these traitors. Lying in wait. Blackjack does not know. He does not realize. He would never think that his own cats would betray him. Cats with his own goals. He believes them to be loyal to the end. He is wrong." She shifted painfully on the ground. Blood was freezing in clumps to her fur. "My brother killed Toby one day, when he thought Toby was leaving the Watchers. In reality, he was going looking for your mother. He never recognized her as her new name, Snit. She kept herself apart from him out of fear."

Hazel shivered. "Why are you telling me this?" She'd given no deep thought to her father. The fact that it wasn't Snit didn't even faze her. This Toby was just another faceless tom in her memory. Though the fact that Audrey feared him made her stop for pause.

"Because I'm dying. And because you're the only cat I'll ever see again. And because you're Declan's daughter, and I have a message for him. It's why I came up into the mountains to begin with."

_Declan? _Dahlia must have known that he was their leader now that they'd left Lucky and the Warren behind. They must have been watching closer than ever. Right on the Sliders' heels. Panting down their trail. Waiting for blood.

Hazel settled down. The snow was beginning to pile up on her back. Already it covered Dahlia's coat, erasing her. Only the bright bloom of her blood made any color, gushing stronger when she coughed.

Dahlia turned her head. "Tell him what I told you about the Claws hiding in the Watchers. They're just a festering sore waiting to burst. The Sliders can win this battle yet. My brother had a weakness. He does not now. He has seen to that."

It wasn't hard to see what she meant. Blackjack had neatly done away with his only flaw, his only weak-point, his only saving grace, and he'd left her lying here on the mountainside alone. "I might never see Declan again," Hazel said. "I don't know where they are."

"I do. They're against a bluff on the other side of those cliffs." Dahlia gestured with a bloodstained paw. "It collapsed under our weight, but you should be able to find a way up. Blackjack is trying to enter from the other side of the mountain. You can make an ambush from there. You must hurry."

Slowly, Hazel stood. She looked down at Dahlia, the she-cat she barely remembered, who she'd hated before she really knew what hate was. Who had just presented Hazel with Blackjack's entire plan, as if it were nothing at all.

Hazel's throat felt full. "I'll stay," she said. "I'll stay with you until…"

Dahlia closed her eyes and laughed quietly. "You have so much of Declan in you. And Twist. She hated me so much because I… It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, does it? Everything…everything I thought was important wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't. I couldn't ever do… I never managed…"

She kept talking, nonsensical things, as Hazel lay down beside her, pressing her shoulder into Dahlia's cold fur.

Dahlia was breathing more irregularly now. Her eyes were slits. "In the meadow that day, I loved him. The sun was so warm. So warm. He knew I loved him, didn't he? I never told him I did. I should have. I should have told…"

"He knew," Hazel said, because it would comfort her, assuming she meant her brother. _How can she love Blackjack after all of this? How can she think of him in her last moments, as if he were someone precious? _When Hazel had thought she'd been dying, she'd thought of Kale, of Streak, of Twist and Declan, and of the Sliders.

Dahlia breathed in sharply. A look of relief entered her eyes. "Thank the stars," she said. "Thank…thank the…"

All the air left her body in a long sigh. Dahlia sank down into the snow and did not rise again.

XXX

Hazel shouldered her way up the mountainside. Exhaustion dogged her steps. Every inch felt like a victory.

"Who goes?" Someone was coming for her, running across the snow. "State your name or be struck down."

"I'm Hazel," she said, too quietly. The words were frozen in the back of her throat. Ahead, through the whiteout, she saw shapes approaching, long-limbed cats racing towards her. The one in front was brown, a tom, with suspicion sharp in his eyes.

"I said state your name." He prowled forward. Ice crusted his nose. Then his eyes widened. "Your eyes. You're—"

Hazel swayed on her paws. "I'm Hazel. I'm…I'm a Slider."

Then without another word, she pitched forward into the snow.

Above her, the activity continued. She heard a she-cat say, "Whirlaway, I think this is the missing cat. They said she was a brown tabby with a ginger spot. There's snow, but I think there's…" Something brushed Hazel's head. "There! I see the spot!"

The tom, Whirlaway, said, "We have to bring her back right away. I'll carry her. Jade, you run back and tell Bran to get a nest started. She'll need to get warmed up right away."

And then she was lifted off her paws. Her vision was failing. She saw the ground below her, gray-flecked snow, and the paws of the cat carrying her. Her tail trailed out a path in the snow.

After that, it was just motion and noise. She jerked with Whirlaway as he jumped up a cliff, each leap making her head rock back and hit his jaw.

"It's all right, Hazel," the she-cat said. "We'll take care of you."

Hazel could barely keep her eyes open. "Declan…"

"He's waiting for you. They've been looking for you. He and your mother have been half out of their minds."

_Twist. _Hazel's heart beat a little quicker. _She's going to strangle me._

Warmth. Light. Something soft touched her cheek. Whirlaway set her down. "North, go and find Flare."

"Who's that?"

"A she-cat!"

"Out of the way, out of the way. Bran is coming through, you dunderheads."

"Hazel!" That was Cascade, her voice bright with shock. "It's Hazel. Twist, Twist, she's here!"

"Stars, she looks half-dead. Where is Declan?"

Hazel opened her eyes to see paws approaching. Someone bent down to her level. The yellow eyes she loved. Her heart felt like it was swelling in her chest. "Catch," she said, voice cracking.

Streak's eyes were full of some emotion that was crushing everything in Hazel's body to liquid. "Hey, Patch," he said, sounding unsteady. "It's good to see you."

She reached up with a paw to touch his face. "Don't look so sad," she said. "I'm alive."

He laughed. Bending, he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "You're alive. I can't believe it. You're alive, Hazel."

"Hazel!" Hazel sat up just in time to see Twist racing for her. She flinched into Streak's shoulder, waiting for the venom, the ferocity, the sparks Twist would use to set her on fire.

It never came.

Twist reached out and gathered Hazel to her chest like a kit, burying her muzzle in Hazel's fur.

"Hazel," she whispered, her breath warm on Hazel's neck. "Hazel. My Hazel. My dearest heart."

Hazel was rigid with shock. Then she melted into Twist's embrace, closing her eyes tightly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Twist, I left camp with Kale. I didn't think—"

"That's not important," Twist said fiercely. "You're home now. That's what's important."

The Sliders surrounded her. Cascade, Iggy, Marco, Adder, Violet, Ren, Kaltag, Petey. Declan, a moment later, joining Twist in nuzzling every inch of Hazel he could reach through all the paws and noses and tails, touching her, cementing her that she was back, bringing her back to the present and away from the nightmare of the mountain, of the wolf, of the tunnels and the river and Kale—

Kale. He wasn't here. She looked past all the bright eyes and did not see his pale blue.

She looked up at Declan. "Kale…"

The look on Declan's face answered that question for her. He sighed, a weighty sound. "Hazel," he said. "We have something to tell you."

* * *

><p><strong>This one ended up a bit shorter than usual, but I feel like it did what I wanted it to do. I'd rather go for quality than quantity now, all of a sudden. XD<strong>

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	36. Fight and Flight

**Heyo! Sorry this took so long. I tend to forget about it when life gets busy. I got a nice kick in the butt to get going again by a friendly PM, so here it is! Chapter 36! **

**Thanks for reading! Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>Twist didn't like the closed-in cave Flare picked as her meetings' den. In fact, she hated it. There was no sky here, no passage to the outside. The stone bent down like a broken back, trapping her here. Wind did not stir the dust that collected in the corners. It was warm but the air was stiff, like being underground.<p>

_We basically are. _Flare's hideout was beneath the mountain, tucked into a cleft of rock that ran like a vein into the cliff. It was shielded from the storm's teeth but its howls seeped into all the nicks and cracks in the mountainside, filling her dreams with screams and shrieks.

They were seated in a circle, the so-called "leaders" of this new pack. Flare with her lieutenant, a black-and-white she-cat named Blue-Eyed Jack, sat so close they touched, with Audrey taking Flare's left paw. Whirlaway, the scout and general of Flare's cats, sat stiffly next to the healer Bran. On the Sliders' side, Declan took the forefront, with Twist and Lightfoot filling out the circle. Twist had asked Streak to join. He was the closest cat they had to a healer, and even if he couldn't match Bran's wisdom, he could supply another, younger point of view. Finally, laying down more than anything else, Stripes completed the loop.

Twist did not seat herself at Declan's side. She was between Lightfoot and Streak, leaning into the comforting warmth of the young tom's shoulder. He wasn't the same as Declan—he was smaller, sparer, his fur lacking the luxurious thickness she loved—but he was familiar as the pattern of her own fur.

She couldn't even look at Declan. A sour taste filled her mouth whenever she even glanced at him.

Flare set her bright eyes on Declan. "Now that your she-cat has returned to you, we have plans to set in motion."

"We do," Declan agreed. "The Watchers will find this place eventually. A quarter moon of silence doesn't mean they've given up. It means they've intensified their search."

"You know how these cats act?" Blue-Eyed Jack had a raspy voice for a she-cat. Like her name suggested, both of her eyes were a radiant, startling blue, deep as lake water. They contrasted sharply with her white face.

"Without mercy. They've cut down our numbers to half in the amount of time it took to climb the mountain."

"Which is?"

Reflexively, Declan and Twist met eyes. Twist dropped hers first, feeling her stomach tighten.

After a pause, Declan said, "Perhaps three moon cycles. What season is it?"

Flare's cats laughed. Flare didn't join in, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "We don't have seasons," she said.

Whirlaway added, "We have the snowy season, the icy season, the freezing season, and the snowy, icy, freezing season."

Bran didn't seem to get the joke. Frowning, he said, "We have periods of time when the snow melts, though that's only visible down in the lower parts of the mountain. When the river fills, some green sprouts over the—"

"It was a joke, Bran," Audrey said. "Whirlaway wasn't serious."

Bran looked surprised. "Oh. Sorry."

_Literal-minded, _Twist thought. _You and Lucky would make quite the pair._

"Regardless," Declan said, attempting to reclaim the floor. "The Watchers move quickly. They have no subtlety, no plan. It's outright ambush. They dogged us for miles up the mountain without even a thought to cover their tracks. Lightfoot culled their ranks but they still outnumber us almost three to one. That poses a problem."

"Indeed." Flare frowned. "Jack? Thoughts?"

Blue-Eyed Jack shook her head. "I fight hawks and foxes, Flare. Not packs of psycho cats. And certainly not any in groups this large, if what the tom says is true."

"Declan." Lightfoot's voice was a cold snap. It was the first time Twist had heard her speak in days. She'd taken to haunting corners of the caves and sitting alone, speaking to no one. Unusual for some cats, maybe, but with Lightfoot, anything outside of vicious rage was abnormal. "His name is Declan."

Blue-Eyed Jack widened her pretty eyes and shut up.

Audrey shifted uncomfortably on the stone. "I lived with them for moon cycles. Declan's right. Blackjack wants blood and he'll do what he wants to get it. All of his hunts ended with a dead cat. He's relentless."

"So what we need to be is smarter," Flare said matter-of-factly, as if it were that easy. "Easily done."

Twist envied her naiveté. "How many battles have you fought?"

"What constitutes a battle?"

"This isn't the time for word games. Have you fought in a battle or not?"

All the amusement vanished from Flare's pointed face. "Not in your sense of the word. I grew up on the other side of this mountain. I had to fight the Clans for any mouthful. You'd know about that, wouldn't you, Lightfoot?"

"Me? Why would I?"

"Aren't you one of them?"

"One of _who?"_

"A Clan cat," Flare said irritably. She flicked her tail. "You have one of their names."

"Look, Red, this is the name I chose for myself. No Clan named me. And I've never been on _your _side of the mountain. I'm from the valley."

"Oh." Flare blinked. "I just assumed—"

"You assumed wrong," Lightfoot said crisply. "As you've assumed wrong almost the entire time we've been here. You think that it's easy to outsmart the Watchers? Ha." It wasn't even a laugh, just a single dry word. "They're smarter and stronger and braver than you."

"And you know this for a fact?" Flare asked quietly. At her side, Blue-Eyed Jack's back fur began to rile up. Even soft-hearted Bran looked insulted at Lightfoot's tone.

"Facts are so easily diluted. Let's look at the evidence." She stood up and began to pace. Her wounds still ached her: Twist saw her favoring a front paw, and the long weal along her side looked reddish in the gloom, even after a week of healing. "The Watchers have been at our throats for three moon cycles. As an estimate. I say _we _but I certainly don't mean you and your rock-dwellers. I mean the Sliders. They chased us up and over this mountain, never tiring, never failing, even as we tired and failed. Finally they trapped us in the ravine, where we thought we'd have shelter. Our little Hazel decided that wasn't the best idea, and split. I chased after her and—oh right—_battled a wolf, _and then found it within my beautiful bones to take out half of Blackfoot's strike party." She paused, just behind Flare. Flare followed her with her eyes, though she didn't stand or move out of the way. "That brings us to you, Red. You stole away in the night and brought us here, to your rock. Fed, sheltered, warmed. All that good stuff. But I forgot the most important part of what you did for us. You hid us. As you've hidden yourself. So tell me, kitten. How is it that the Watchers, who as stated have tracked, hunted, and killed for nigh on three moon cycles straight, aren't as smart or strong as you and your rock-dwellers?"

Flare was silent.

Lightfoot licked her lips, her eyes gleaming. It looked like she'd just taken a bite of freshly-killed prey. "Go on again about what's easily done," she taunted.

"Lightfoot," Declan said quietly. The room was already silent after Lightfoot's speech, and his voice rang clearly through it. "That's enough."

Lightfoot didn't look like she agreed but she sat down all the same.

"We'll call the meeting here," Flare said coolly. She hadn't fully recovered from Lightfoot's tirade and it was clear. Her fur was up and her tail was fluffed out. "Go see your gang and have a bite to eat. We'll reconvene at midday."

The circle broke, though not without a little resentment. Blue-Eyed Jack in particular shot Lightfoot a dirty look that the she-cat didn't even notice.

Lightfoot leaned close to Twist. She whispered, "These kits are still wet behind the ears. They need true battle training. Even their lieutenant the so-called fox-killer is too soft. Look at her pelt. No scars."

"Not everybody has your scars, Lightfoot," Twist whispered back.

Lightfoot looked pleased. The loss of her ear didn't seem to bother her. If anything, it inflated her bravado. "You disagree?"

"I don't," Twist said, surprising herself.

Declan overheard her. He leaned over past Streak to stare at her. "You're agreeing to battle training? You?"

Twist said testily, "I'm not above teaching cats to defend themselves."

"Since when?" His green eyes were wide. He didn't mean it as a challenge, just simple surprise, but Twist felt the anger rising up in her.

She pushed herself to her feet. The fury in her was so strong that it was shaking her to pieces. Her teeth rattled together. "Since we had to leave cats behind to die so others could keep living!"

Hurt flashed across Declan's face. Twist couldn't stand it anymore. She pushed past him, ignoring Streak's call for her to come back, until she was back in the main cavern.

Her sister saw her first. Anole darted to Twist's side. "What's wrong? What's happened?" Behind her, Hazel had stood and moved closer, uncertainty on her face. Streak went to her side and murmured something, and Hazel's marked eyes lit with understanding.

Twist kept walking past her, past all the eyes watching her, the voices questioning her, until there was light on her back and sun beneath her paws.

She was still walking, not entirely sure where she was headed, when she heard him behind her.

"_Twist! _Stop! Stop walking."

She didn't. Eyes burning, stomach in knots, she kept going until Declan cut her off, holding his tail out to block her way.

"Twist, _wait." _He leaned close to her, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Twist, we need to talk."

"No we _don't." _She sidestepped him but he leapt in front of her, cutting her off once more. She didn't want to look at him right now. She was terrified of what would come out of her mouth, what would rise up out of her cold, bitter heart.

Twist pushed into him but he held steady, even as she dug in her claws and shoved as hard as she could.

"We don't have to talk about _anything," _she said, grinding her forehead into his flank. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"Which is why you were shouting in the cave back there." He dipped his head to try and meet her eyes.

Twist looked at everything but him—the freezing snow, the clear, white sky, the broken back of the mountains that she hated, that she _loathed, _that she had never wanted to see ever again in her entire life. She wanted to run from here, to leap off the mountainside and run until her heart burst, until her lungs collapsed, until there was vibrant green around her and warmth on her fur, until she knew the stars in the sky as well as her own heartbeat, as the steady sweep of her stride, and the scent of Declan's fur when he held her at night, until nothing could frighten her, nothing could make her feel such emptiness. She wanted someone to grab her, to shake her, to make her _feel _something, something other than this overwhelming, devouring terror.

But she didn't say any of that. Trembling, pathetic, she kept her mouth and heart closed.

Declan let her stand there, shaking and heaving, almost sobbing. He didn't say anything. After a time, he sat down and drew her into his chest, stroking down her back with a paw.

"We left him behind," Twist whispered raggedly, resting her cheek in his white fur. "You took me from him. I wanted to stay. I should have stayed with him."

She felt Declan sigh, so softly that she wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't pressed against him.

"Gravel died alone. He died alone on that ridge. We paid for our escape with his life. How can you justify that?"

Declan didn't say anything for a while. Then quietly, he said, "He wanted to. We didn't make him. He knew what would happen."

"It shouldn't have." Her breathing wasn't regular yet. It felt like not enough air was in her lungs. Her head spun. "We could have saved him. I wanted to. I—"

"Gravel wouldn't have wanted you to die. He knew that we needed you."

"I needed him! Doesn't that mean anything to anybody? We went through hell together. When I thought I was going to die, Gravel was there. He helped me. He saved me. And now he's dead." Bitterly, she went on, ignoring the rising wind. "If I had been with him, this would all be over. I wouldn't have to…live with this. I wouldn't have to live with myself."

"No," Declan said. He pulled away from her, keeping his paw on her shoulder. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Twist went on recklessly. "I have a group that doesn't like me, friends who couldn't care less, a child who loves the devil's son. Who do I have, really?"

"Me," he said, and for the first time since he'd spoken, his voice was not steady. His expression was raw, bared like an open nerve. "Don't think like this. Don't think that being dead would be easier." He blinked. "Don't leave me alone."

Twist's breath caught. "You'd be fine. Without me."

"I wouldn't. If you die, I die too. I want you to remember that." He dropped his eyes to the ground, where the snow had melted from the warmth of his body. "I'm sorry about Gravel. But I won't apologize for taking you from the ledge. I won't apologize for keeping you alive. I won't apologize for keeping you here for the Sliders, for Hazel. For me."

He looked back up at her and in his eyes was what had brought her back to life, so many moon cycles ago now, when she had first come down from the mountain. It was everything that meant anything.

Declan stepped closer. Twist hadn't stopped shaking. "If you don't want to live for yourself, that's your own choice. You have to deal with that. But find something else. Your family. Your mission. The Sliders. Anything." His face was solemn but his mouth was trembling. "Either of us could die before this is over. And if we do, we're going to be separated. Don't…don't make us be apart before that. Please."

Twist leaned into him. The hopelessness that had been strangling her was still there. It lay in a coil in her stomach, a pool of freezing water. It weighed her down. It threatened to drown her.

But she was strong. She could hold it back. She could push it off.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his fur. She breathed in raggedly.

He bent his chin to rest it on her head. She fit perfectly against him, every line matched. Her equal. In every way. In any way that was possible.

When they drew apart, he looked at her. Curious. cautious. Worried.

Twist took a breath. It fell into her lungs cleanly. It cleared her head.

"Let's go," she said.

XXX

"When you're fighting, you need to keep your balance low." She laid a paw on North's back, pushing him down. He was a wiry thing, all white fur and gold eyes, but willing to learn. "The Watchers are all sizes, unlike the Claws. They'll come at you in pairs. You have to keep your back away from them."

"Who're the Claws?" North asked.

Twist thumped him with a paw. "Be quiet and listen. What did I just say?"

North sighed, but he sank lower, into a more balanced stance.

"Good." Twist moved among the cats, giving notes here, making a correction there. Declan was doing the same with a tangle of Flare's cats by the back wall. Streak was helping a trio of young she-cats, all who seemed more interested in batting their eyelashes at him than learning anything. She heard one of them, a fluttery creature named Wren, say, "Do you mind showing me that tackle again? I've forgotten," and laughing a little bit as Streak showed her the proper moves.

Flare was absent, but she'd sent Whirlaway to observe. He didn't say much, just sat across the way, watching the proceedings.

Flare had not put up a fuss when Declan and Twist came with their idea to train the cats to fight. Blue-Eyed Jack had given a sneer of derision, but Flare had simply said, "I'll allow it. But only after the morning hunts and patrols have been completed, and it has to be over before I send out the afternoon scouting parties."

That left a generous slice of time to work. Flare's cats were eager students. Every day brought new improvements, better tactics, smoother coordination. It was heartening to see after feeling so broken. Twist felt reinvigorated.

Lightfoot was taking a break from sparring, drinking out of the water drip in the corner. She was still drinking when Twist approached, even though it took a while to get through the crowd.

"Thirsty?" Twist asked dryly. "Or are you turning into a fish?"

Lightfoot took a breath, licking her lips to get the drops off. "Glad to see you've found your charming sense of humor again. I liked you better mopey."

"You did?"

Lightfoot sobered up. Her eyes flicked between Twist's, growing serious. "No," she said slowly. "No, I suppose I didn't. I'm glad you're feeling better, Twist."

"Wow," Twist said. "Kindness? From you? Let me catch my breath a second." But despite her teasing, Lightfoot's concern was genuinely touching. It was rare that the she-cat showed any sort of gentleness.

"Ha. I'm playing mentor to a dozen kittens. I guess I'm growing soft." She turned away, returning to her drinking. Twist drifted over to where Hazel was sitting alone, watching Streak spar with Horizon, an orange she-cat.

"Twist," she greeted simply.

Twist sat beside her. They were of equal height now. If anything, Hazel was a little bit taller, and broader across the shoulders. Strong. "How are you doing?"

Hazel shrugged. "I'm fine," she said flippantly.

Twist's mouth tightened. Hazel hadn't taken Kale's reveal well at all. It was understandable. Nobody expected a loved one to turn on them so suddenly.

It had been over a week now and she'd hardly spoken of him. Flare had called off the search. There was no point looking for someone who didn't want to be found.

Twist wanted to be surprised that Kale was with the Watchers. She wanted to be astonished that someone in her circle had turned their back on the Sliders.

But she couldn't be. Because all along, she had suspected him. She had mistrusted him. She hadn't wanted him to be in the circle.

That would hardly be productive to tell Hazel.

Instead she tried Declan's tactic. She put a paw on Hazel's shoulder. "How do you feel about training?"

It worked. Hazel let out a little laugh. "I never thought I'd get real battle training. I always thought I'd just grow old, catching rats in the Warren. Now…" She trailed off for a moment, her eyes growing distant. "I like it," she admitted. "I feel useful. And it helps. With the other thing."

_The other thing. _The tom she'd loved. Resorted to sideways talking and nameless mentions.

"Well," Twist said briskly. "Come on, then. You can spar with me."

"You can fight?" Hazel asked dubiously.

Twist swatted her over the ear with a sheathed paw. "I fought in the battle with the Claws. I'm practically a war hero."

Hazel scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Twist gave her an arch look. "Oh really? Well then, come on. Let me show you my tricks, young one. Prepare your mind. You might get your fur blown off you in shock."

Hazel laughed again, fuller this time, and followed Twist out into the open space.

"Uh-oh," Streak said. He was pinned by Horizon, who looked like she was enjoying herself more than the activity called for. "Twist's taking the field."

"I took the field when you were still a mewling kitten, brat," Twist said, flicking his nose with her tail hard enough for him to sneeze.

"Lightfoot, do you want to watch this?" Declan trotted forward, bringing his pack of cats with him. Even Flare had come out of her den, standing at the back of the circle, her eyes inscrutable.

Lightfoot's third of the group was working on evasion. They scampered and tumbled over each other to join. Anole was in the group, bright-eyed next to Sparrow. Twist had given the tom a stern talking-to about her expected treatment of Anole, but it was pointless. Sparrow acted like Anole spun the stars in her paws.

Twist stopped and turned around to face Hazel. "Let's see what these past few days have done for you," she said, sliding into a crouch. She kept her tail down and parallel to the ground. Her ears were flat.

Hazel mimicked her. Her claws came out, kneading the ground.

"On three," Declan said. "One, two—"

Twist blasted across the ground. She raked out a paw and knocked Hazel's feet clear out from under her. When the younger cat hit the ground, Twist whirled, kicking up her hind legs, bringing down her forepaws to trap her.

But to her surprise, Hazel had already moved. She swung a forepaw at Twist's head. Twist rolled with the blow, but compromised her balance. She staggered back, and Hazel kept coming, taking mincing leaps, keeping her forepaws braced on the ground.

She lashed out. Twist leapt over her paw, landing on it on the way down. Hazel hissed in surprise, trying to retract it, but Twist's weight held her in place.

"Rule one," Twist said, out of breath. "Never overextend."

Hazel curled up her lips in frustration. Dipping her head, she butted Twist in the chest, forcing her off. Hazel moved off, trying to reposition, but Twist was on her again. This time she leapt onto Hazel's back, springboarding off onto the ground beyond.

Hazel stumbled and that was all it took. Twist spun around her, kicking out a hind leg with her own, finishing it up with a whirling leap that planted her on Hazel's stomach, paws braced. Her hindpaws pinned Hazel in place. She couldn't budge a whisker-width.

Not that she didn't try. Hazel grunted in exertion, trying to pull her forepaws free, beating her hind legs uselessly on the ground. Twist felt her tail lashing.

"Done," Lightfoot said. "Twist wins."

Twist got off. Hazel pulled herself to her feet, shaking the dust from her back. "You cheated!" she accused, her pride sore now.

"The Watchers won't play fair. You have to cheat to win. Those are the rules of the game." She glanced up over the crowd and caught Stripes' eye. He out of everybody knew that.

Stripes gave her an approving nod. His throat had healed completely, leaving nothing but a pinkish-gray scar across his gray fur.

Hazel did not look so approving. "Again," she said. She fell into a fighting stance: back low, forepaws out, ears back.

Twist felt a bubble of pride watching her. In only a few short days, she'd made marked progress. The others were the same. A quarter of a moon cycle and they'd gone from kittens playing warrior to the real thing. Or at least, growing closer to it.

_ We can do it, _she thought. _We can fight them. We can win._

"All right," Twist agreed. "But this time, slower. Watch how I move. Try to copy it. On three. One. Two. Three."

* * *

><p><strong>Definitely inspired by AestheticB's INCREDIBLE MLP fanfiction <em>The Immortal Game, <em>which I tend to reread every few months. Right now I'm about halfway through, ravenously devouring it for like the fourth time. God, so good.**

**Other than that, things have been going pretty good for me! I finished my original novel that I've been working on for five years and I'm halfway through line-editing - which makes me want to die a little bit, but in a good way - and I got the good news that I get to go back to London the summer after next to visit my brother at grad school. -dances away into the sunset-**

**Honestly, it's just nice to have something to look forward to. Now that I don't have school anymore, I feel like time is going by too quickly. Like, this is halfway through August already? ALREADY? SOMEBODY STOP TIME, I DON'T WANT THIS YEAR TO BE OVER YET.**

**On that note, hope you enjoyed this chapter. XD**

**R&R~**

**Shadow**


	37. Braced and Bested

The training was coming along more smoothly than Declan could have ever imagined. Every dawn that passed, the cats of the Sliders and Flare's group grew more and more prepared, quicker on their feet, swifter to dodge, their blows harder and more precise. It was almost impossible to think that these were the same younglings that had hidden in a cave for protection not half a moon cycle ago.

Declan perched on top of the rock in the center of the new training cave. It gave him a good vantage of all three groups of cats. Twist's group worked on stalking and dodging. Streak and Marco, who had taken over momentarily for Declan, taught bracing methods, how to catch strikes and turn the momentum against the striker. Lightfoot's group was straight-out strength training. Declan saw her go up against Jade and slam her forepaws against the smaller she-cat's over and over again, shoving her back until the wall was at her back.

"Adapt!" Lightfoot cried, ramming Jade back once more. Jade's legs were quivering but she held strong. Her paws dug out tracks in the dirt as Lightfoot drove her back. "Do something! Push me off! Push me back! _Adapt!"_

Jade's teeth gritted. With a snarl, she shoved upwards, breaking Lightfoot's guard. For the first time in Declan's life, he saw Lightfoot's stance weaken. Jade kept going, alternating paws, jabbing and clawing and slashing, until she whirled around and kicked Lightfoot with her hind legs.

Lightfoot skidded back a tail-length, but kept her paws. Her eyes were wild, her fur riled up along her spine. "Excellent," she practically purred. She strode closer and ruffled Jade's brown fur with her paw. "I didn't think you had it in you, scrap. I'm impressed against my will."

Jade looked inordinately pleased: Lightfoot's praise didn't come cheap. "Thank you."

"All right, who's next?" Lightfoot eyed a big gray tom. "Cinder, step up. Let's see your footwork."

Declan liked the look of seriousness in the tom's face. He prowled forward to take his place, and Declan looked away.

Every day brought them closer to a fighting force. But Declan understood that each one of those days was a lucky blessing. Any moment, Blackjack and the Watchers could find them. Any moment, he could come barreling in through the entrance to this cave and lay waste to its occupants. Nobody left the cave except to get food, and Flare had even started sending patrols deeper into the caverns to look for rock rats and bats to eat, to try and keep as many cats hidden as possible.

She didn't seem to notice the problem until Declan brought it up. "It's meat, like any other. What's the difference between a rat out here and a rat out there?"

"Rats on the mountain feed on fresh foods," Declan explained patiently. It hadn't escaped him that Flare was very young, hardly older than Streak. She hadn't lost her spots yet being a leader. "Rats in the mountain feed on dead things. It gives them sicknesses. Bats are too dangerous to even try eating, unless you want us all to get rabies."

"Rabies," Flare scoffed. "From being bitten. The hunters are better than that."

"If a wolf can get rabies, so can a cat." Declan hadn't forgotten Lightfoot's description of the brute. It haunted him that the wolf could have bitten her or Hazel.

Flare shrugged. "If you have a better idea, let's here it."

He'd been waiting for that. "Hunting patrols in the afternoon only. The Watchers are housecats. They sleep during most of the afternoon."

Flare's eyes narrowed. "Housecats don't all sleep during the afternoon, you know. They're trying to put us under siege. They're looking for us, tirelessly. Take my word. We will continue to go out at dawn and dusk. I have cats to feed."

Declan bent his head. "Respectfully, Flare, that's an assumption. You think that the Watchers are like you, that they're on irregular schedules. They're not. Hunts during the afternoon would be our safest bet, especially if we keep to the riverside of the mountain."

"Then we'll run into Clan cats."

"You said they don't venture this close to the mountain unless it's a half moon." Something about seeking answers from a tunnel that had an odd smell and an odd glow. Flare had sent cats into it to discover what the Clan cats were doing in there and found nothing but a rock that looked made of cloudy glass.

She flicked her tail dismissively. "I've seen them other times. We should post a sentry to make sure they don't encroach our territory."

"That would be like a beacon for the Watchers."

"What would you have me do, Declan?" Flare snapped. Her eyes were narrowed with dislike. "We have to eat. I can't bring the prey in with my charming personality. It has to be hunted. It has to be killed. In your world, perhaps we could sustain ourselves on light and air, but in the real world, we need fresh meat and blood."

_You'll have your fair share of blood if you keep being so careless, _Declan thought, but he just bent his head and excused himself. Flare was the leader here. Not him.

That night, as they all settled down for sleep, Declan sought Stripes' opinion.

Stripes' eyes darkened as Declan spoke. When the story was done, he said, "This stripling will get us all killed with her misguidance. What do her counselors say?"

Declan shook his head. "Jack has never seen combat. Whirlaway was a stray cat they took in from the ridge. He knows nothing of secrecy." He folded his head into his paws and sighed. "I thought we'd find allies here but all we have are extra worries."

Stripes made a low noise in the back of his throat. "She is wrong on most parts. There are no Clan cats in these territories anymore. They long made the trip to north of the valley. Below us is empty territory full of those pink up-walkers and their shiny creatures. They created paths for their things to crawl upon and abandoned the rest to weeds."

"Really?" Declan blinked. "Flare didn't say anything about that. How do you know?"

"I used to be the master of this land. I know everything about it." He twisted his mouth wryly. "And now here I am on the opposite side. If I had known that these cats were hiding beneath the stones, I would have led my gang here to chase them out."

"That might not be the wisest action now," Declan noted, joking.

Stripes laughed. He had a laugh like Twist, low and singular. He sobered for a moment, a clinical look coming into his yellow eyes. "You're a good leader, Declan. I didn't want you to be, but you are."

Declan put his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Stripes looked him straight in the eye. Matter-of-factly, he said, "I wanted Twist to be miserable when she left the gang. But she found you instead. You're reliable. You've got a good head on your shoulders."

Declan was so surprised that he had to laugh. All mountain cats were the same: no deception, no lying. Just straightforward, brutal honesty. "Don't let the outside fool you," he said, tapping his temple with a paw. "Inside it's all mush."

"I'm serious." Stripes certainly looked it. His eyes weren't narrowed like they generally were. He seemed thoughtful. "You're a leader. A good one. Better than I was. Your cats respect you." He looked to the side, his ears falling back a bit. "I always was taught that a leader should be feared. That it made you strong to be at the top of the chain. But you're different. They don't fear you. It's not a motivation for them. Strange."

"Did Braiser teach you that?"

At the mention of the name, Stripes tensed. His hair went up along his back. "Yes," he growled. "I respected him. At least, I thought I did. He led us to greatness. We were never hungry beneath him." He frowned. "But we weren't happy either. We weren't real. We were all just shadows. I didn't feel real until they were all dead. Braiser, Hazard, all of them."

"Do you feel real now? Does this make you feel real?" Declan waved a paw towards the sleeping cats, young and old, strong and weak, working towards a goal together, striving and struggling and _living._

Stripes followed the gesture. He lingered on Twist. "Yes," he said simply.

Declan excused himself. He'd learned everything he could.

Twist woke up a little when he dropped next to her. She reached out with her forepaws for him, wrapping him close. Her breath hit his cheek, her whiskers poked his chest. "You're late," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"Where were you?"

"Talking this out with Stripes. He's familiar with the territory. He tells me the Clans have moved on."

The word sparked something in Twist. She stiffened.

He drew back. "What is it?"

She was uneasy. The sleepy pliability of her was gone, replaced by sharp, straight lines. "The Clans frighten me."

Declan rubbed her back. "They're far from here. They can't hurt you."

He remembered her stories of them, of her kithood. When a golden tom the size of Viktor had jumped her, bloodied her, with nothing in his eyes but killing-lust.

"I know that," she said testily. "I have other fears now."

"Hazel."

She nodded. "She's progressing," she whispered. "It scares me."

Declan's ears flicked in surprise. "She's learning how to defend herself."

"It's different, Declan. The others, they endure it. Hazel… She _enjoys _it. Too much. She drew blood today on Kaltag and you should have seen her face. She loves this. War." The word was barely a breath. "It's like she was born for it. It reminds me of my father."

Declan sucked in a breath. "Hazel is nothing like Braiser," he said in a rush, a shiver in his chest. As if sweet, innocent Hazel could be anything like that monster.

She twisted in his forepaws, uncomfortable now. "I lived with him. I know the look. Bloodlust." She closed her eyes. "I didn't think I'd ever see it on her face."

Declan didn't know what to say. He ran his paw up her back, her fur soft against his pads. "We'll watch her," he said cautiously. "We'll break her of it."

"It's not like that. Look at Lightfoot. She's in control of hers. Hazel can't wait to get back in the ring for another spar. She puts out her claws during the fight."

That was against the rules. Any cat who drew blood was given to Marco for running exercises until they dropped. It was punishment and training.

"Then Marco can have her tomorrow," Declan said. "But I want to see her first. Orchestrate it. Put her in with someone better than her—not Streak, but maybe Adder or Violet. I want to see her."

He could hold off judgment until then. He wouldn't make the call unless it was necessary.

He knew he was being foolish but he couldn't help it. Hazel was his daughter. His little star. He couldn't imagine her being brutal.

XXX

Training commenced early in the morning, before the sun was even up to warm the snow. Twist kept training flowing easily. The morning held the standard three-part training until mealtime at midday, then came the sparring.

Declan watched Hazel closely through each ring of training. She was side-by-side with Petey and Cascade for most of the day, laughing through the exercises, working hard in strength with Lightfoot, keeping pace with Streak's bracing, even dodging every one of Ren's swings in Twist's dodging classes.

She showed no sign of aggression, outward or not. Declan kept a close eye on her from his perch on the rock. Even when she misstepped and Lightfoot send her sprawling to the dusty ground, she kept composure.

Twist's eyes met his many times over the day. _See? _she appeared to say. _Watch her._

Declan nodded curtly and kept watch. He didn't want to think the kit he raised had turned sour somehow. He didn't want to think of her enjoying this. The other cats looked like they were having fun playing war, but it hadn't started yet. When it did, he expected to find them fearful.

He just didn't want to find Hazel relishing in it.

Whirlaway joined him just before sparring. "Flare is concerned that you're taking too many hunters for this training," he said. He had an easy, calm voice. It was no wonder he spoke for Flare.

Declan blinked. "Each cat has a shift. The hunters bring in enough prey before training begins and then after, as Flare requested."

Whirlaway gave him a peculiar look. "It's not a request. Flare gives orders."

"I misspoke," Declan said smoothly. _I have to watch my step. Every word sets these cats into a frenzy._

Whirlaway didn't comment further. He turned his eyes on the training. "What are you goals for this? You want to turn us into fighters for what cause?"

"To dissolve the Watchers."

"You mean to kill them."

Declan winced. "If it comes to that."

"It will," Whirlaway replied, without an ounce of hesitation. "They've taken out our cats before. They'll do it again. Especially ones like me."

Declan looked between his marked eyes, yellow and green. Like Hazel's. "Did they take your family?"

"Yes," he replied, just as easily as before. Without a shift in tone or expression, he added, "They killed my sisters right in front of me, to try and smoke me out. My mother had hidden me in the forest. She'd told me to stay hidden, so I did. Even after they stopped moving."

Declan felt his stomach tighten. "I'm sorry."

Whirlaway shrugged. "I was younger then. I didn't understand sacrifice."

"And now?"

He gave Declan a wry look. "I live in a cave under a mountain. I eat skinny rats. I command a group of kittens. I know a thing or two about sacrifice."

_Sacrificing your family is a sacrifice, _Declan thought as the cats grouped together below to begin sparring. _Eating rats and being cold is no true sacrifice._

Whirlaway was just so young. All of Flare's cats were. The seasoned fighters like Sparrow were few and entirely too far between.

Twist stopped in the center of the open space. She turned her head. "Lightfoot? Do you want to start this one?"

Lightfoot was lounging on her side. She looked out of breath. Laughing dryly once, she said, "I'll let you take this one. I'll just watch."

It occurred to Declan then that Lightfoot and Twist had never really gotten along. They weren't friends. But now looking at them, joking with each other, perhaps that had begun to change.

"I'll go first," Adder said. He curled his tail up over his back. "Please, Twist."

"All right." There was a glint in Twist's eye now. Declan recognized it. Anticipation. "Cascade, you can spar with him."

Declan knew what she was doing. It couldn't be too obvious, her intentions. It had to be slyer than that. She'd let a few rounds go by and then she would throw Hazel into the mix.

Cascade looked resentful as she padded into the circle. She'd been wary in practice, slow to react. Putting her up against a sharp young thing like Adder wasn't meant for practice—it was to embarrass her.

Declan didn't like it. But he didn't have to like everything Twist thought was a good idea. He just had to support her and hope she had good intentions.

Adder was in a crouch before Cascade even finished walking up. He sank lower as Twist said, "Ready."

"Good luck," he said to Cascade.

The silvery she-cat said nothing. Her eyes narrowed.

"Begin."

Adder struck quick as his namesake. He aimed low, one paw braced hard against the ground.

Cascade leapt back silkily, balancing on her hind legs, forepaws splayed for attack.

Adder called her bluff. Ducking his head, he barreled into her stomach. Cascade hissed, wrapping her paws around his neck, sinking her teeth into his scruff, but Adder was relentless. He'd grown strong during his time in the mountains. He outweighed her twofold. Where his brother and sister were sleek and lithe, more like Kite, Adder was all Viktor: thick muscles, barrel chest, and strong legs. He shoved her off like she was nothing, sending her tumbling into the dust.

Cascade coughed as it filtered into her lungs. She looked up with puffy eyes as Adder stepped up, his pads soundless on the ground. "I forfeit," she ground out, her voice raspy.

"You have to keep going," Twist urged. "Push yourself. You always stop too soon."

"I forfeit!" Cascade got to her paws and shook the dust off her coat. "Do I have to say it again? I'm not a fighter. I'm a mother."

Twist shook her head. "You have to be both. You don't have the luxury of just standing idly by anymore. You have to fight to stay alive."

"I've managed to stay alive my whole life without fighting," Cascade snapped. "I don't intend to start now."

_Uh-oh. _Declan slid off the rock to intervene, but Twist had already torn at her again.

"So I suppose you'd like to stay in the cave with the kittens when Blackjack gets here. You want us all to protect you because you're too delicate to get your claws bloody?"

"Don't presume to know me, Twist. I've been through more than you ever—"

"Oh, don't start that rubbish again." Twist bared her teeth. "I'm getting sick of hearing you say how hard it is. 'My poor fur is no good for this cold.' 'My eyes hurt from all this sun.' 'I'm limping from stepping on all these stones.' Guess what? We're all going through the exact same thing. And all of us have managed to step up except you. How much longer are you going to keep up this wounded campaign? Aren't you tired of it yet? I'm certainly tired of _you."_

"Then leave," Cascade said. "I don't want you here. You're only here because your mate is our _de facto_ leader. Hazel's real mother is here now. What purpose are you serving? Other than trying to boss everybody around. It must be hard to teach us fighting when you're a subpar fighter yourself."

"Talk about throwing stones in a glass home," Lightfoot muttered to Iggy.

"Come on," Declan said, pushing them apart. It took effort. They were circling each other like hawks. "We have others to fight. We don't need to start this war early."

Cascade pushed against him. Streak came out of the circle to hold her back, shoving her away with his shoulder. "Go on and defend her!" she sneered. "Just remember, we all have a reason to be here. What's yours?"

Twist struggled in Declan's grip. "Keeping you alive, you self-centered idiot!" she shouted. "Since I guess you're too stupid to figure that out yourself!"

Cascade snarled and Twist growled back, and it got very out of hand.

Declan caught Lightfoot's eye. "Practice is over," he said.

She took the hint. Getting to her paws with a grunt, she yowled, "Come on, break it up. Get back to work. Or if you'd like to lie around and just be _mothers _instead of _fighters, _kindly see yourself out. The cold-season storm will thoughtfully remind you of your mistaken mentality."

Twist didn't stop fighting, even when they were out of view halfway down a tunnel. "Let me go," she hissed. "I'll claw her ears off!"

"That's not exactly what we're looking for." Declan let her go. She shook out her pelt with a look of disgust on her face, still glowering towards Cascade. "Honestly, Twist, what were you thinking? You think it's a good idea to antagonize her?"

"_She's_ antagonizing _me."_

"You're above that. Think about Cascade. She's never had to fight before. Her sons were stolen from her and turned into Claw guards and then they died."

Twist stopped struggling at once. "I didn't know they died."

Declan sighed through his nose. Headstrong. Impulsive. Twist had more in common with Hazel than she thought. "Because you never talked to her before. I did, right after the last time she challenged me. Two sons, Heron and Slide, after the Sliders. She never forgot, even in the Claws' camps." He dipped his head to meet Twist's eyes. "She's hurt. And she's scared. Of course she's going to lash out at anybody who comes near her. You would, too."

Twist didn't say, "I wouldn't," even though he half-expected her to. Instead she relaxed, blowing out her breath with a long sigh. "I should apologize."

"I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Yeah right," she said, rolling her eyes. She flicked his chin with her tail tip. "You do all the time."

But she walked away all the same, back towards Cascade. It was only when the group was breaking up that Declan realized he'd forgotten to watch Hazel fight.

XXX

Declan knew immediately that they'd been found as soon as he opened his eyes to the screaming.

It was madness in the Sliders' corner. Adder, always trying, had launched himself to his feet too fast. He was stumbling around with his hair up and his claws out. Streak steadied him with a shoulder, already calling for Hazel. Petey was up and ready, Kaltag a shivering shadow.

Twist was running towards the sound. Declan pushed himself to his paws and followed.

Flare's sentry Primary was on the ground. Her gray fur was torn. Blood patched her coat. Bran was crouched beside her, coaxing in a low voice, but her breathing was too fast. It rose in pitch, horrible gasping chokes, before stopping abruptly.

Declan felt invisible claws clench around his insides.

Flare appeared from her den with Blue-Eyed Jack. Her yellow eyes were wide. "What's happened?"

"What's happened?" Marco, in his shock, had forgotten his place. "An attack, that's what. And she probably brought them straight back to us. If she didn't, her blood trail did. We have minutes."

He was right. Declan's tongue felt dry with shock. "The plan," he said. He coughed to clear his throat. "We have to enact the plan. Flare, ready your cats. Get everybody up."

It was moot. Everybody was already up. From the darkness—it was still night, barely past midnight—came heads and perked ears, silver whiskers shining with moonlight, eyes glowing in the blackness of the cave.

"They've found us?" Flare looked shocked. Her mouth was hanging open.

Declan paced, short paths that doubled back on themselves. His mind was alive with panic and fear. "The captains will move their groups to the selected locations," he said, his voice a low tumble of words. A calm he did not feel. "Whirlaway, Sparrow, Adder, Jack, Streak. Go ahead and gather your groups. Cascade, you round up yours—queens, kits, elderly. Don't forget Granite and Stripes."

"I will fight, Declan." Stripes prowled forward, but even from here, Declan could see the still-healing gleam of his scar.

Declan shook his head. "You'll go with Cascade. And if it comes to it, I expect you to protect these cats."

Stripes dipped his head. His fangs were overhanging his lips. "Understood."

Declan turned his head. "Flare, your orders."

Flare was still standing there, rigid with shock. Her tail was fluffed out to twice its size.

Declan's heart seized up. "Flare," he said, more sharply this time. "We have to move."

Blue-Eyed Jack looked up at her leader uncertainly. Whirlaway and Jade were waiting, anticipating. Even little North looked crestfallen.

"I…" Flare started, but nothing followed.

Twist was at his side at once. "Declan."

He knew. She didn't even have to say it. This was the moment he'd been dreading for all the stiff, stilted days in this cave.

He stepped forward. Every cat looked to him. Not challenging, not dismissive. Open. Watchful. Rapt.

"The captains will move to their positions. Whirlaway, you're in charge of the fighters. Blue-Eyed Jack, you stay with Flare. Bran, you're going with Cascade. Everybody else, with me."

He stared them down. They stared him down. Neither broke. Hopefully, neither would.

One voice rose out. Horizon. The little golden one. She bent her head, looking small. A child. "I'm afraid."

Declan waited for Lightfoot to speak up. This was always her moment. But she was either not present—for reasons Declan didn't understand—or unusually silent. It was up to him.

"We're all afraid," he said softly. He bent his head to hers, trying to keep his expression calm despite his rising terror. "We're all fighting for our lives here. But it's come to this. Because of the Watchers. Because of Blackjack. Some of us will go out onto this mountain and we won't come back."

A few eyes drifted to Primary, now still beside Bran.

"But we have to go." Declan stepped back and started down the line. They watched him, attentive and rising like birds. Caught in the wake of his words. "We have to fight now. We fight or we die. That's what he's made us. Blackjack has torn down every peace we've ever made in the name of his hatred. Well, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling afraid for the cats I love. I'm sick of feeling powerless. And I'm not going to take it anymore."

He stopped by Twist. She was staring at him with such bright shining pride in her eyes that he felt it chase away every shadow in him.

He took a breath. "I'm going to fight. I'm going to fight so I don't have to fight ever again. I'm going to fight so no cat I love will end up dead in the snow. And it's the most selfish thing I'll ever do in my life, but I'm going to ask you to fight with me. I'm sorry. But we have to. So that we can finally put an end to this."

Declan paused. He was breathing hard, like the words had taken something from him. Maybe they had. He certainly didn't feel any lighter.

He looked at Hazel, sitting so close to Streak their pelts were touching. She was watching him with something new in her beautiful eyes, the eyes that had doomed her to this.

It was for her. It wasn't for himself, Declan knew. It was all to keep her safe. The cat he loved as dearly as if she were his own blood.

"So let's go," he said. "We fight or we die. Let's fight."


	38. Within and Without

_Remember to breathe, _Twist's voice whispered in Hazel's head, but it was difficult to remember to breathe when all she could think of was what was about to happen.

Clinging to the stalactite with both front paws, Hazel thought her heart might stop. This wasn't practice. This wasn't play. This was real. All her life, she imagined battles, blood spattering, fur ripping, cats dying. It had been a nightmare.

Now it was a reality.

She gripped the stone tighter and squeezed her eyes shut, more out of habit than fear. Her heart was hammering, yes, but it wasn't all fear. Hidden there, like new grass beneath winter's snow, like thorns hidden in soft sand, was anticipation. Excitement.

_Something's wrong with me, _a voice in the back of her head whispered.

"Patch," Streak whispered.

Hazel opened her eyes.

Streak was next to her, like always. His eyes were full of concern. And fear. Natural, normal fear. If anything was normal in this situation.

"I'm okay," she said, she lied.

Streak didn't believe her. She hadn't expected him to. _Remember to breathe, _she wanted him to say. _Remember your training. You can do this._

Instead he said, "Stay close to me."

Hazel swallowed hard. She nodded.

Down below, almost hidden in the murky shadows, she saw a splash of dark red. Declan. Behind him were his group, the ones who would mad rush the Watchers. Twist was with another group, further back. Once the Watchers fell prey to the ambush, they'd trap them in a pincer.

It had been Declan's idea. One of the Claws' favored tactics. A surprise attack followed by a surprise attack. And on unfamiliar ground, hopefully the Watchers would have no idea how to react.

Twist's face came back to her, then. The way she'd looked the last Hazel had seen her.

"Hazel," she'd greeted, in her usual Twist way. But uncharacteristically, she looked worn. Like the voyage into the mountains had aged her.

Hazel stood before her, feeling for the first time like an adult, like she mattered. "Twist."

"You're going to be in Streak's group. I made it that way on purpose."

Hazel bristled. "I don't need Streak to protect me. I can do that on my own now."

To her surprise, Twist just nodded. "I know. I want you two to protect each other. I know you'd do anything to keep him alive."

A lump rose into her throat. Choking out words past it, she said, "Absolutely."

There was no doubt about that in her mind at all. Streak was the most important cat to her in her life. He always had been. She'd just been so stupid. She'd never noticed it until now, until everything had been peeled away—all the resentment she'd felt towards Twist her whole life, the frustration of being kept in the Warren, the fear she'd felt as the Watchers had begun their hunt, the desperate loneliness that had broken her heart after Kale had shown his true nature.

She had loved Kale, that was true. And that love had been sweet and innocent, a dream of summer.

But Streak was in her bones. It had been hidden there, all this time, all her life, in the pauses between heartbeats, in the feel of the ground beneath her paws, in the spaces between her breaths. And if separated from him, if all those spaces he filled were emptied, she thought that she would bleed to death from the loss of it.

If Declan were right, and the life after this one was an endless sea, then Hazel knew what she wanted to find on that opposite shore.

Now Hazel took in a deep breath. Streak's presence beside her steadied her, like a paw on her back, like a rush of clear air after being underwater.

He looked over at her. When their eyes met, he weakened, and Hazel felt herself respond to him, mimicking him.

"Hazel," he said, throat working, like the words were stuck.

Before he could say more, the air changed.

The Watchers had arrived.

She knew it instantly. Their scent rolled in like fog. Gone was the familiar smell of Flare's cats, that watery, earth smell. The Watchers smelled like the approaching cold-season: stark, negative, bare as bleached bones.

A black tom stepped into the caves. His head lifted, mouth open to draw in scent.

_ Blackjack. _His name sent a wave of heat through her, strengthening her shaking legs.

She saw Declan tense. His tail came up.

_Wait. Wait, something is wrong. _Why was Blackjack alone? Where were the rest of the Watchers?

Then it hit her. _That's not him. _This cat wasn't wearing a collar. His pelt was littered with old scars.

Her mouth opened without her consent, but Declan struck.

They rushed out of hiding, mobbing the black cat, who let out a yowl of shock.

_Stop. No, this isn't right. _Desperately, she looked to Streak. Horror was in his eyes. He'd realized it, too.

Declan drew back. His ears were upright. When he moved to give the order, a wave of Watchers poured in.

_It's ruined! _The whole plan was gone, stolen by Blackjack's cunning. He knew the Sliders would be tense, ready to spring a trap, and he'd defused it with one simple move. It was a masterful play.

"Now?" she hissed to Streak.

On Streak's other side, Kaltag said, "We have to. They're going to be killed!"

A thrill of nausea rolled through her. An image of Declan, broken, bloodied, flashed through her mind.

Streak looked helpless. "We have to wait."

"You're crazy," North hissed. "If we don't go now, they'll—"

"I know," Streak snapped. "But we have to wait. Declan said—"

"Declan's orders are useless if he's dead!"

Hazel waited. "Give the signal. Streak, you have to. If you won't, I will." She knew across the cavern, Whirlaway's group huddled close to the ceiling, too. They were tied together. One wouldn't move without the other.

Streak hesitated for a moment longer. Then he opened his mouth and yowled.

It echoed through the howling gale of sound below. The Watchers looked up in confusion, their war-frenzy splintered, just as the two groups fell from the ceiling.

Hazel's heart froze in her chest as she let go, plummeting through the empty space. It was like they'd practiced: she had to keep her legs out, claws extended, tail behind her for balance.

And, just like she'd practiced, she landed perfectly on a Watcher's back.

The Watcher howled in pain as Hazel dug in her claws.

Now blood replaced the foreign scent in her nostrils. She bared her fangs and sank them into the cat's rough, winter-cold pelt, worrying the fur until her teeth met flesh.

_This isn't practice. This is real. This is happening._

The cat buckled under Hazel's weight, but Hazel didn't let go. She dug her claws in deeper, bit harder, until the scrape of bone met her teeth. There was a ringing sound in her ears, and after a second, she realized it was the Watcher screaming.

Abruptly, she let go. The cat scattered back into the crowd, trailing blood like pawprints behind it.

Another rushed her, nearly knocking her over. Hazel whipped around, blinking the cat's blood from her eyes, to see a cat her age, no older, already bloodied from the fight.

"Your kind is not fit for this world," he spat.

Hazel spat out a mouthful of blood. It dripped stickly down her chin, soaking into her fur. The cat's eyes widened. Hazel bared her teeth. "Maybe you should go to the next world, then."

He had nothing to fight with when she bowled him over, easily shoving him onto his back.

Her teeth were at his throat in an instant, sinking past his thin fur, past the skin. She stopped when she felt the rubbery edge of his life-vein.

Lightfoot's words came back to her, from all those spars in the cavern: _It's on the left, in the soft of the throat. If you can get your teeth around the life-vein, your enemy will be nothing but so much prey._

"Please," the cat gasped. His throat heaved beneath her fangs. Blood welled up, strong and sweet. "Please don't. I'll leave. I won't kill—" A cry broke from him as Hazel dug in her teeth a little bit.

"Don't speak," she said through her mouthful of fur. "This will be quick."

The cat yowled. Desperately, he struggled, twisting his neck instinctively.

The life-vein tore from her teeth, rupturing like a dam.

Blood spurted from the wound as Hazel staggered away. Her face was sticky from the spray.

The cat managed to get to his feet. His white front was soaked crimson. For a moment, he just stood there, teetering. Such enormous shock was in his eyes. "You've killed me," he said.

Hazel said nothing. Her mouth was open. His blood was still on her tongue.

The cat stumbled, recovered, and fell again. He landed chest-down.

Something chilling was rising in her now, icing her over, freezing the horror and changing it into something sharper, harder. "You shouldn't have come here," she said. "You shouldn't have followed Blackjack. You did this to yourself."

The cat looked up at her with losing eyes. He opened his mouth to say something more, but the light left him. Sagging to the ground, he grew still and did not move again.

Hazel stared down at him. It seemed like something was wrong with her hearing. The battle raged on around her. She could see glinting teeth. She could see torn fur. She could see the blood flying, the eyes shining, the mouths gaping and ready to tear. But it was like she had grass stuffed in her ears. Nothing reached her. She felt untouchable.

She felt invincible.

The next cat who rose up against her was bigger. _You're small, but you're quick, _Lightfoot said in her head, as she ducked beneath the she-cat's heavy forepaw. _Get beneath them and gut them like rats._

The she-cat blinked as a tear opened up in her belly. Almost comically slow, she looked down at her blood spattering the stone, before she fell.

Hazel's fur was up along her spine. The ice in her was hardening, spreading. Beneath it was everything she could think about later. Above, sliding and skating on the frozen surface, was pure giddiness.

Laughing now, she pounced to Kaltag's side. He was struggling with a golden-pelted tom like himself. The tom didn't even see Hazel coming.

Kaltag blinked in shock as his foe stumbled, one paw weak and useless. _Cats are made of strings, _Lightfoot said as Hazel slid to the other side, her claws lashing out. _They're in our legs, our backs, our necks. Cut the strings and we're only bones and meat._

The tom was down two legs. With nothing to stand on, he was easily dispatched by Kaltag, who sent the tom squalling.

Hazel hissed in frustration. "You only _wounded_ him."

Kaltag stared at her like he didn't recognize her.

Ahead, Whirlaway's group was breaking up the Watchers' ranks. The scent of blood was stronger here. Hazel drank it in like the perfume of a flower field.

A huge she-cat with a blue collar stepped forward. "You're too small for this," she hissed. "Go back to your mother."

Hazel laughed at her attempt at an insult. "My mother abandoned me when I was barely born."

As she carefully pared away the she-cat's fur, she thought of how war revealed a cat's true self. As easily as her claws exposed blood, bone, muscle, battle had exposed who she really was. All her life in the Warren, she'd been who the others wanted her to be. For Declan, she was the sweet, loving daughter. For Twist, she was the bitter, angry kit who reflected her. For Kale, she was the perfect young mate, adoring, placating, hiding bits of herself behind the guise of happiness.

War had bared her like a nerve. Raw and aching, not pretty, not perfect, but true.

The Watchers were thinning. Hazel watched them, assessed them with this new clinical, detached mindset. _Another trick, _she thought. _We fought greater numbers than these on the mountainside._

Declan shouted, _"Push them back! Block the entrance!"_

_ Where's Blackjack? _Hazel had not seen a hair on his head since this battle began. Could he still be hiding? Could he have sent his cats to their deaths in order to launch a sneak attack?

_No. _He was here. Somewhere. Even if he were outside the cavern, he was close. He would not have given up his dream of killing all marked cats just to have it happen outside his view.

Hazel laughed. He was _watching. _He was waiting for something. But what?

So distracted was she with thinking this that she didn't notice the brindled tom coming until he had her pinned down.

_No. _She gasped for air as he slammed his paws on her chest. She'd lost the element of surprise. That was the only thing she had going for her. She was too small to push him off. Too weak to fight him back. Both of her paws were trapped beneath his heavy body. Uselessly, she battered his belly with her claws, trying to rip him open, but his fur was too thick.

His ugly face was in hers. One of his eyes was closed by a thick gray scar. "Don't fight, little she-cat. Just pay attention."

Her eyes closed instinctively, that pathetic habit from her youth. She opened them at once. _I am not weak anymore. I am not young anymore. I am alive. I will stay alive. I will not hide the world from myself for a second longer. I will not close my eyes to who I am._

"Die," she hissed. "Die, die, die." Her claws hit nothing but fur. Tufts upon tufts flew from her hind paws into the air behind the tom.

The tom frowned, not even noticing her efforts. "You are blinded. Open your eyes."

Suddenly he was gone. The weight cleared from her chest. Cold, sweet air poured into her lungs, clearing the blackness from her vision.

She startled to her paws in time to see Streak lash his claws down the tom's sides. The glaring light of the moon lit him from behind, illuminating the sharp points of his ears, the gleam of his fangs, the fierce glitter of his yellow eyes.

And she loved him.

And she loved him.

And she loved him.

The tom flew from beneath Streak's claws, injured and bleeding. Limping out of range, he hissed, "Blackjack wants this! Don't you get it? You're paying attention to the wrong things. As we speak, he's launching a counterattack from behind. We've been watching your cave for days now. Weeks."

Streak stalked forward, legs stiff. All the hair was up along his spine. "Why should I believe you?" he hissed. "You've been hunting us for moon cycles now. You've killed our cats. You've chased us from our home. For all I know, this is just your newest cruelty."

The tom shook his head. A trio of scratches ran along his shoulder. "You don't get it. The Claws are hidden in the Watchers' ranks. We're waiting to turn on Blackjack. We just have to wait for the signal."

"Whose?"

"Mine."

A silver she-cat padded forward. She was absolutely beautiful, with a thick glossy pelt untouched by the cold-season. Her one eye was pure silver, as bright and shining as the moon.

Hazel stared at her blankly. Streak gasped in recognition.

And then teeth locked in her scruff.

She didn't even have time to cry out before a paw slammed into the side of her head.

_Streak, _she thought she said. He didn't turn his head as the cat carrying her turned away. He was staring at the she-cat like he'd never seen a cat before, like he was seeing someone come back from the dead.

"Catch," she said, slurred.

"She's not out," a cat said.

Someone hit her again. Then everything went black.

XXX

When she awoke, her head was pounding. The taste of blood was in her mouth, but this time, it was her own. She'd bit her tongue.

Slowly, she sat up. The moon was out. It poured like water onto her, sheltering her in its light.

Her head ached and her pelt was torn. She hadn't even noticed that. In the rush of battle, she'd only noticed what she'd inflicted on others.

Now, away from that heatedness, she felt horrified.

_I'm a monster, _she thought, shaking. _I killed somebody. Those cats are dead because of me. _

She hadn't even cared. It had been like killing prey. Enraptured in the deadly, sick beauty of the hunt.

Nausea gripped her, and she vomited into the bushes.

Bushes. She was outside.

Recovering as best she could, she turned around.

She was in a gully, shaded by dead thorn bushes. She couldn't hear anything but the wind rushing.

Now the panic was setting in. That heavy, thick ice that had settled into her bones was gone, replaced by watery fear. She stumbled to her paws.

"Be careful."

She whipped around as a cat stepped out of the thorns. She nearly fell over.

"Sundance," she said.

The she-cat looked weary and thin. Her beautiful golden pelt hung around her loosely. It had lost its gleam.

"Hello, Hazel," she said. "You've grown."

"Not too much." And now Riff strode out of the thorns. He stopped at Sundance's side, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry I had to hit you so hard. We didn't want you to alert the others. They would have never let you go."

Hazel was still reeling. She backed up until her flanks touched thorns. "I don't understand."

"We took you away, Hazel," Sundance said gently. "We didn't want Blackjack to kill you."

"He would have," Riff said, sighing. He glanced back up the hill nervously. "We tried to call him off, but when he gets going…"

"You're Watchers now?" It was a far cry from the two young cats she'd met what felt like years and years ago at the old Claw cliffs.

Riff shrugged. "All the old Claws joined up. We had nowhere else to go. The Sliders wanted us all dead, remember?"

"That was…in the past."

He gave her a wry look. "You saw the battle. Tell me that's not in the past."

"The Sliders are fighting to stay alive," she said, feeling sick. She felt as if she might throw up again.

"So were you. And now you can be alive." Sundance moved to come closer, but Hazel shirked away. She frowned. "Don't you trust us? We saved you."

"You took me from my family," she said hollowly. The thorns were biting into her fur as she backed up. "I need to go back."

"You can't."

Hazel closed her eyes at the voice. _Please no. No, no, no._

Slowly, she turned around.

Kale stood there, handsome in the moonlight, love in his eyes. "You'll die," he said gently. "But here, you're free. Remember? That's what you wanted." He blinked at her warmly. "Now we can be together, like we planned. Now we can run away and never be found."

Hazel froze as he came closer. "You betrayed me. You joined the Watchers. You tried to get me killed."

He shook his head. "I was trying to lead us away. We got separated on the mountainside."

"There were Watchers waiting for me on that mountainside! I almost got killed!"

Kale turned to the others. "Give us some space."

Riff obeyed at once. Sundance was more reluctant.

"Space," Kale said again, stronger.

Sundance bowed out.

He kept his face averted for a moment. Then he turned back and that hardness had cleared. "I didn't know they'd be there." A look of sadness entered his eyes now, and to Hazel's dismay, she couldn't tell if it were genuine or not. "I would never put you in harm's way."

Hazel clenched her teeth. "I met your brother Sparrow. He told Twist and Declan you'd joined up with your sister Sorrow."

Now his eyes widened. "You know about— That doesn't—" He turned his head and spat a curse. When he turned back, heat was in his eyes. "All that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that I love you.

"That doesn't matter."

Shock coursed across his face. "What?"

"It doesn't matter!" Hazel took in a deep breath. "You joined up with the enemy, Kale. You only came into the mountains because Sorrow made you. I know. Declan told me everything."

"I went to Sorrow because I had _nothing," _he spat. And despite everything, Hazel was taken aback. He'd never spoke harshly to her before. "And Declan was the reason why. He took you from me. He had no right. He had no right to take what was mine."

"I was your mate," she said stiffly. "Not your property."

Kale breathed out sharply. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did. Didn't you? What did Sorrow say to make you like this? Did she tell you that you were owed me because of what the Sliders did to your family?"

"The Claws were never my family until Declan—"

"Don't blame Declan," Hazel snapped. "Declan was always good to you. He always allowed you into our group, he liked you, trusted you—"

"He never trusted me."

"And you betrayed him." Realization was dawning on her. She sat down abruptly, all the air gone out of her lungs. "You told the Watchers our position, didn't you? That's how they knew to come to the ravine."

She'd thought it was so strange, when she and Lightfoot had come across the Watchers. They were nearly out of the mountains. They'd gotten so far. But Blackjack had known exactly where to look. She'd thought it was pure luck.

For a moment, Kale didn't say anything. His mouth worked as he looked at her, with something new in his eyes. Something speculative.

"By the stars," she whispered. "Kale, tell me it's not true."

"Declan would have never let us be together," he said finally. His tail was flicking behind him.

"So you wanted Blackjack to _kill him?"_

"No," he said. "I wanted Blackjack to cause a distraction. I knew that he wasn't going to be in power for much longer, so I wanted to use him before he died."

"Died?" Hazel shook her head. "And what? Your sister took his place?"

"Yes," he said, so straightforwardly that Hazel flinched.

She stared at him. It felt like she didn't even recognize him. "You would kill my father to have me? And you'd think I'd ever go willingly with you after that?"

Kale's eyes narrowed. "You said it yourself, Hazel. Declan's not your father. Your father is dead."

"You'd condemn my family to death."

"How many times did you tell me they weren't your family? That they'd kept you prisoner in the Warren? That you'd leave them all behind for me?" Raw anguish was in his eyes. "That you'd willingly leave them to be by my side. You meant those things, didn't you? You meant it when you said you loved me."

_He's lost his mind. _This wasn't the sweet, awkward tom she'd fallen in love with. Sorrow had burned out the logic in him, the reason, and replaced it with this pitiful, desperate creature.

"And Streak?" she asked, trembling. "You would have him die, too? Or would you have spared him from Blackjack because you knew I loved him?"

Silence.

There was a rock in her throat. "I can't believe you."

"You didn't love him. Not like you loved me. You would have realized it after a while."

Hazel looked at him. "You're right," she said.

He looked relieved. He stepped closer, that old warmth back in his eyes. "You'll see, once we're away from here. We'll—"

"I don't love him like I loved you."

In the paused that followed, she watched that register with him, that past tense. It clicked and his eyes shadowed over.

"I love Streak more than I ever loved you," she whispered. "I realize that now." She laughed. "I was stupid to think otherwise. I did love you, Kale, but I _love_ Streak. And it's so different."

"You're wrong," he said, sounding garbled. He was shaking his head, back and forth, back and forth, like he was stuck in the motion. "You're mistaken. We're going to run away from here. You're confused. The battle, Riff hitting you. You're just confused, that's all. Once we're away, you'll clear your head and realize the truth."

And now Hazel shook her head. "You wanted to kill my family. Declan. Twist. And Streak. I won't go anywhere with you. You can't possibly think I would. Sorrow's blinded you. She's twisted your mind. This isn't you, Kale. You're not this cat."

Kale had dropped his eyes to the ground as she'd spoken, but now he lifted them.

Cold fury had chased away any scrap of warmth.

"No," he said. "You're wrong. This _is _me, Hazel. This is me now. And you're coming with me."


	39. Before and After

Twist had a she-cat beneath her claws and wasn't letting go. Already, the Watcher had left a score of bleeding lines down the side of her face, but she ignored it. She ignored the patch of fur missing from her flank, the slice on her hind leg that weakened her, the deep cut someone had put in her ear that stung when she moved.

_This will end, _she thought. She wasn't the cat who'd run from her father's twisted body anymore. She wasn't young and foolish, relying on the strength of others to protect her, hiding and dodging away from violence, closing her eyes as she had the first time she'd seen a cat die, back in the forest when Lightfoot had taken down a Claw guard and she'd realized how awful the green world was beneath the layer of clouds that had hidden it from her all her kittenhood.

Anole and Sparrow flanked her, shoving the Watchers back, pushing them out of the caverns. At her back were more, five, tens, dozens of Flare's cats, the ones brave enough to fight, the ones who wanted to live more than they wanted to not be murderers.

_If I must kill to end this, I will. If I must sacrifice myself to save the cats I love, I will. I'll do it this time. I won't run away any longer._

No cat was coming out of this unscathed.

Twist bit deep into the she-cat's throat until she stopped moving.

There was a sound, one final gasp, and it was over. The Watcher was dead at her paws, the fire in her eyes extinguished.

For a moment, the world stopped. The ground felt colder under her paws. The wind felt sharper. The darkness fuller.

Twist had blood in her mouth. It tasted sour and bitter and cruel. She spat it out onto the ground and tried not to collapse to the ground.

_I will do anything to stop this. I have to. For Hazel. For Declan. For every cat who has ever been born with marked eyes. For any cat targeted for something outside their control._

She saw Braiser's approving face in her mind and almost vomited.

Sparrow bowled over a she-cat and sent her sprawling into the stone wall. His form was perfect. He'd hardly needed to practice. Growing up a Claw had made him into a weapon.

Twist's little sister, the tiny kit she'd played with, was a sleek, fierce warrior now. She was matching a Watcher tom blow for blow. One of her paws smacked into his face, reopening the thick scar over his nose. He hissed and recoiled but Anole gave no quarter. She moved forward, ducking her head, shoving her skull into his throat, choking him. The cat tumbled back and Anole followed him, her tail lashing like lightning.

Twist lost sight of them after that.

_It will end. _Breath was scarce in her chest. It didn't feel like she was even here anymore. It was as if she'd left her body, like she was surveying it from the ceiling of the cavern. It was packed with cats, stinking of blood and fear. Everywhere she looked were still forms, some small, some larger, some Watcher, some other.

A lump rose into her throat as she noticed one broad-shouldered body, a bloody patch of gray fur. _Adder._

Someone had torn his throat. He was still alive, wheezing, blood popping in his lungs.

Twist came back to herself. She cleared the cave and stopped at his side. "Adder," she whispered, dropping beside him.

Each breath was a rattling gasp, aspirated. He looked at her, blue eyes wide. They were the only thing about him that were his mother's. He was all Viktor, strong, broad, dark-pelted. Invincible.

His blue eyes made him young.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. Blood fell from his lips.

Twist looked down helplessly. "I'll tell them. Viktor and Kite. I'll tell them you died a hero," she said, strangling on the words. "I'll tell them how brave you were. How—"

Adder had gone still before she could finish whatever pathetic platitude she would manage. His eyes stared sightlessly at some point past Twist's shoulder, his mouth slightly parted.

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder and screamed.

_This will end. This must end. I will end this._

Cats dropped from the ceiling. Streak's group. Twist didn't look up as they took over, young fresh things out for more killing, more horror. Hazel was among them.

_This is for her. This is so she can live. _Twist lifted her head from Adder's side and threw herself back into the fight, deadening the grief for now. It would overwhelm her later, she knew. But not now. It couldn't be now.

Time passed. She didn't know how long it was, how many cats she hurt, how much pain she inflicted. It was all a numb rush of color, absent from sound, absent from feeling. Claws scratched her, teeth tore her, but she didn't feel it. She felt nothing but that driving force, the voice in her head screaming at her, _Survive. _Survive and continue. Even if it felt hopeless now, these cats would survive. She had to fight. There was no option. She had to fight.

"Stop."

The word locked Twist in place. The last voice she expected to hear now. The one she thought, she'd hoped, she'd never heard again.

Slowly, she turned.

The battle had frozen. Across the cavern, Declan emerged, bloodstained and weary but _alive. _Twist's heart unclenched.

Sorrow looked much the same as the last time Twist had seen her. She was still beautiful, but her coat was ripped from the fight. She was still imperious, but her missing eye made her look gaunt. She was still hateful, but something was tempering it, something Twist couldn't identify.

The remaining Watchers were all the scarred cats Hazel had told her about, the old Claws. Turned to the nearest evil in the forest they could latch onto. Dahlia had sprung their trap early. Twist had been expecting this.

"This has gone on long enough," Sorrow said, looking from cat to cat. She settled on Twist. An arrogant slant came into her eye. "It is time that we ended this fight."

Nobody spoke. Outside, snow settled over the mountain, silent as a tomb.

Fury lit Twist's bones. "Then give up," she said.

Sorrow's mouth twisted. "I offer a compromise. Set aside your hatred for the Claws. In return, we won't kill you."

Marco let out a low laugh. His shoulder was a bloody mess of black fur but his eyes were glowing in the half-light. "Why should we believe you? The last I saw you, you promised you wouldn't stop until we were all dead."

"That was before a shared enemy leapt up between us." Sorrow hadn't even looked at him. She stayed looking at Twist.

Declan limped forward. Twist ached to run to his side but she couldn't cross in front of the Watchers like that. Instead she held closer to Anole's side, feeling hatred killing the fear, the desperation in her.

"Who is that?" Anole whispered.

Twist glared at Sorrow. "An old wound that still flares up now and again."

Declan paused. One of his paws was hurt. He was hiding it, convincingly, but Twist knew him better than the pattern of stars in the sky. Memorized. "Blackjack will no doubt be aware of your plan now," he said, his voice rasping. "Where is he?"

Sorrow gave a flippant wave of her tail. "Further up the mountain. He awaits the signal."

"Which is?"

"Your cats fleeing in terror." Sorrow gave a silky shrug. "I didn't say it was elegant. This cat is nothing like my father."

Streak limped up. "Twist," he whispered, past the blood on his lips. "I can't find Hazel."

Twist's eyes fell closed. _No. This is not the time. _"Was he in the battle?"

Streak was silent. Twist turned on him.

"Streak," she snarled. "Tell me. Was he in the battle? _Was Kale in the battle?"_

Streak's silence was the answer.

_Hazel, no. Please no. Please tell me you did not run off with that tom in the middle of a war. _

There was no time for this. There was no time for anything. Now, in the fraction of a second, her heart had been crushed to a pebble.

Declan's mouth hardened. "I don't recall elegance in the Claw camps. Only death."

Sorrow gave her light laugh. "Oh, Declan, you haven't changed."

"Neither have you. Which is why I don't trust that this isn't a trap."

"That's wise of you," she said. "Always question. Never stop that curiosity, Leo."

Declan flinched at the casual use of that name.

Cruelty curved Sorrow's face. She strode closer to him, and now Twist did break ranks. She flew in front of Sorrow, pressing between her and Declan, back arched and teeth bared.

"Tell me," Twist snarled, aware of all eyes on her. "How is it that you managed to worm your way into the Watchers? How have you been able to command the group that hates the Claws more than anything else? Is Blackjack so stupid that he didn't recognize his nightmare's daughter?"

For a moment, there was pure surprise on Sorrow's face, and Twist relished it. Then the silver she-cat hid it behind her usual guise of haughty dismissal. "Blackjack is a fool. I used him as one uses fools: by letting him believe he was in charge. It was easy. I've done it a lifetime with my father."

"And it was that simple?"

"I told him I hated Sliders. That I hated Claws. It was true. Every cat who I ever trusted has turned out to be useful as a ripped claw." At this, her eyes slid past Twist, to Sparrow. "Some continue to be barbs in my side. Hello, brother."

Sparrow said nothing to her, but his fur rose along his spine. Anole looked between him and Sorrow, mistrustful confusion on her face.

Sorrow looked amused at his reaction. "It's too easy to twist cats' minds. Blackjack saw what he wanted. He never thought about what's hidden under these scars of ours. He was too lost in his thirst for blood. It was evident by how he allowed his sister to join up with you."

Twist bared her teeth.

Declan rasped, "Dahlia's dead. He killed her."

Sorrow paused. "That's unfortunate," she said.

_Liar. You don't care about any cat but yourself. _But like she said, fools could be used. And Sorrow was just as much a fool as any cat.

"So tell me, then," Declan said. "What is your plan?"

"You run. We chase. Then when we get to Blackjack, I take him down. He killed more Claws than even your Sliders did, back in our war. He deserves death for that."

"Why you? Why not one of us?" Twist looked into the crowd, finding Audrey's frail face there. _Blackjack's blood is owed to us, same as any Claw. And some more than others._

Sorrow looked offended. "You're trying to bargain with me? Really? Let me answer your question with a question: if you don't go along with my plan, do you really think I'd allow you all to live? I clearly have the higher numbers here. The Watchers are strong. The Claws are _strong. _And we will not falter in the face of an old enemy."

Declan said, "We aren't afraid of you any longer. If you want a fight, you'll have it."

For a moment, Sorrow was silent. She watched Declan with an odd, clinical look in her silver eye, like he was some new snake she'd found beneath a river stone and she couldn't decide whether or not it was venomous.

Then her ear flicked. "Perhaps I was wrong," she said softly. Louder, to the whole group, she said, "Then let me posit to you another deal."

"I'm listening."

Sorrow lifted a paw for her own speculation, pad up. They were rough, gray, scarred from travel. Not the pretty pink she'd had under her father's reign. "Whoever gets an opening goes for it. Whoever finds themselves in the right place at the right time takes the shot." Her claws extended, curled in like a cage. "Blackjack dies tonight. That's my deal. I want to see his body. I want to see him _die."_

Her Claws murmured their approval. Some even exchanged bloodthirsty looks, teeth bared and hackles up.

Declan did not partake. He remained calm, collected, lucid as a clear day. But his tone was grim when he replied, "Deal."

XXXXXXXXXXX

The snow picked up to a rush of white. It was hard to see as they gathered at the mouth of Flare's cave.

Then they took off, walking quickly through the snow.

Streak fell behind. "I won't leave without her, Twist. I have to look for her."

Twist's throat burned. "I can't go with you. I have to go with Declan. He…needs me." The words felt stuck on her tongue. Her mate needed her more than her daughter. Hazel was an adult now. She could make her own decisions. Twist had seen her in battle and she had not seen a body: Hazel was alive. She had not been taken.

Fire burned in Streak. "I will find her," he said. "I'll take care of her. You go."

Twist drew him close and twined her paw around his neck, like she'd done when he was a tiny kit. Now he was grown, tall as his father, taller than Declan. They were reversed: she was the small one now.

But Streak ducked his head into her shoulder and trembled like the kit he no longer was.

"Find her," she whispered, as steady as she could make her voice.

Streak breathed out, a shaky, weighty sigh. "I will."

He took off into the snow. And Twist, after a long moment, turned away and went to find Declan.

Behind her, the Sliders clustered together as they walked. Further in the back, the Claws waited impatiently, their fur up. She saw Sparrow giving a few haltingly curious looks and remembered that these were his friends, his family, before Anole became his family. But as soon as he made eye contact, he broke it off and looked dourly ahead, his ears flat.

"Remember," Sorrow said, stalking around the back of the Sliders' group. Restless. "You have to make it convincing. Don't be overdramatic or he'll know."

"Fine." Twist didn't want anything to do with her. Sorrow was still an enemy as far as she was concerned. It would be just like her to try something, to forfeit this peace, just as she had the last time.

As if she'd read her mind, Sorrow came over. "You think I'll send you to Blackjack without a plan? Don't be absurd."

"I don't believe I was talking to you."

Sorrow's expression didn't change. "You think badly of me, Twist."

Twist laughed. "You're a Claw. You were."

Sorrow tipped her head. "But you trust my brother."

"Which one?" Twist asked snidely. "The dead one, the traitor, or the only good thing the Claws produced?"

"Bronze was an idiot," Sorrow spat. "And Kale is young. I was talking about Sparrow. Do you like him out of resentment because he's your sister's mate?"

"Are we really having this conversation right now? Really. You realize we're about to fight the biggest evil we've ever seen and you want to talk about my sister and her mate? Are you really so abnormal that you can't see how ridiculous that is?"

Sorrow listened with the tip of her tail flicking. "I'm just curious," she said slowly, in a low voice, not her usual cutting snap. "Why is it that my brother is so loved and I am so feared?"

Twist stopped dead. The other cats passed her and Sorrow with curious looks, but none stopped. "You're joking. Right? Tell me you're not serious."

Sorrow looked…embarrassed. Haughty, but off her guard. "Look, we're alike, you and I," she said. "We're both the daughters of—what some would call _evil, _if they were stupid and most cats are—"

"You're asking me why cats fear you? Do you want the reasons chronologically or alphabetically?"

Like that, Sorrow's ears went flat. "Never mind. This was pointless asking you. I should have known—"

She took off running, leaving Twist with snow weighing down her whiskers.

Declan came up next to her, tired-eyed. He nuzzled her neck. He'd taken the news of Hazel's disappearance with a heavy dose of calm optimism. "What was that about?" His breath heated her neck.

Twist was still staring off after Sorrow. "I think…that Sorrow is conflicted." She told him what had just happened.

Declan's reaction was the same—outright incredulity. "Sorrow does have a heart, then. I knew she had to. Nobody is completely cold. She's pretending."

"What?"

"You never noticed?" Then a look entered his eyes, a little of his old teasing. "Oh right. You're you."

She shoved him, then winced from her hurt shoulder. "Don't make me embarrass you in front of your gang."

He laughed once before it faded, that brief playfulness. "Sorrow can be redeemed. I know she can. Any cat can if they try." He turned to look at her, the green in his eyes like the promise of summer. "Do you remember that night before the battle with the Claws? You and I in the forest, running to Braiser. Sorrow stood in the path."

"Yes," Twist said. She remembered. It burned in her mind, that night. The rain lashing down, soaking her to the skin. The sky splitting with lightning. And Sorrow, beautiful fur all plastered to her narrow body, fire in her mismatched eyes. "She moved out of the way."

"She knew," Declan said. "She knew we were going to go kill Braiser. And she let us go. Deep down, she knows this is all wrong. But it's been her life for so long that it's in her bones. She doesn't know any other way but war." He dropped his eyes to his paws, treading the snow like powder. "Once this is over, maybe she'll change. Maybe she'll forgive and move on."

"Maybe she'll never change," Twist said indifferently.

"Everybody changes. Sometimes they just need a push." He nudged her shoulder, then again when she ignored him, then once more, until she relented and swatted at him, reluctantly affectionate.

"I hate you," she said.

He touched his nose to hers. "I do love you. Stars, I love you."

Twist looked up at him, heart beating thickly in her chest, a lump in her throat. "Tell me this is almost over. Tell me everything is going to be okay." It was pathetic, a hit to her pride, but she needed to know.

Declan sobered at once. "This _is_ almost over. Everything _is _going to be okay."

"And if it's not… If we both don't come out of this…"

"Twist—"

"Listen to me now, Declan." She stopped and turned to him. They were at the back of the pack now, beyond even the stragglers. "If we don't both make it out of this, I want you to know that I'm…I'm always going to be looking over you."

Declan blinked rapidly. "Twist," he said brokenly, and nothing else came.

She had to finish. She took in a deep breath. "If this ends up badly, I'm going to be waiting for you. In whatever comes after this. And if there's nothing, then I'll find a way." It felt hard to breathe. She forced a breath in and pushed on. "You told me once, that death was a sea. I'm going to be on the other side waiting for you. You're never going to be alone again, Declan. Never."

He enfolded her against his chest. She went willingly, her stuttering heart racing like a trapped bird in her chest, and he rested his chin on her head.

"Know one thing," he said quietly, stroking her back with his paw, as he'd done a thousand times chasing away her nightmares. "If you…if _we_ die…then we'll be together in the end. Whether that's today or years from now, we will be together again. I couldn't stand to be parted from you for a single second, Twist."

She buried her face in his white fur and breathed in shakily.

Then she pulled away. It was time. This was it.

The Sliders were silent. They formed a loose half-circle, but the missing members were obvious as gaps in teeth.

Those who were dead: Max. Vega. Pip. Felix. Shot. Slash. Gravel. Adder, who'd breathed his last this night. Cascade, who'd stayed with the kits and the elderly. Hazel, who'd vanished once again. Streak, who loved her enough to leave his gang to find her.

Twist took in a deep breath.

"We've come so far," Declan said. "Worlds. And we have further to go. I need to know that we're together on this."

Kaltag's face was somber. "I am."

"And me," Petey said.

Iggy let out a wheezy laugh. "I've got old bones, Declan, you know that. But they've still got some spring in them. One more good fight."

Violet and Ren exchanged a look. It was so beautifully complex, full of love and understanding and loyalty. "We're with you, Declan," Violet said, a lifetime away from the shy young she-cat she used to be.

Stripes nodded. "I have little left but I'll give it all to end this for you. If I can."

Twist nodded to him, an old affection in her. Stripes nodded back, something in his eyes she couldn't identify.

Lightfoot was silent. She'd been silent all night. Twitchy, jumpy, out of the ordinary. Her fight had not been pure red. There had been patches of gray. Twist had seen it, seen that slipping.

It occurred to her that Lightfoot was...older. Older certainly than she and Declan. She had not been young when Twist had joined, but a cat at the end of her prime. Strong, yes. But not immortal. It seemed odd to Twist that she'd never noticed before, that Lightfoot of all cats could be weakened.

But here she was. Her beautiful coat a little patchy. Her eyes a little dull. _Age takes us all, _her mother used to say, but for some reason—whether that was how brightly Lightfoot burned or how sharply she struck—Twist had thought Lightfoot invincible.

Declan prompted, "Lightfoot?"

Twist knew. She knew he needed Lightfoot, more than anybody did. They had grown close in their years together. Friends. Lightfoot always went on about how she didn't have and didn't need friends, but Twist knew as much as Declan needed her, she needed him more.

It seemed to take a moment to reach her. But then she blinked and the ferocious light came back into her green eyes.

"Let's do it," she snarled.

Sorrow was waiting when they approached. She was silent, watchful, but her face had lost its imperious edge for the first time since Twist had known her. She was transparent as lake water.

Terrified.

Twist followed Declan, but he was half a step ahead of her. She slowed to a stop as he approached Sorrow.

"We're ready," he said.

Sorrow didn't nod. She said, "My brother is missing."

"And my daughter." The reason lay between the spaces in those sentences, heavy as dread.

Sorrow blinked once. "Then we move without them."

"It's for the best," Declan said. "Hazel is not meant for this."

"You say that like you think you'll all die tonight."

Declan shrugged. "We might. But we've decided. We're going to trust you, Sorrow."

Sorrow blinked once. Then twice. "You'll find your trust well-placed."

"We're counting on it."

They vanished back into the snow and the dark. Twist huddled close to Declan, hiding here in this alcove, scraped from the mountain by wind.

She felt small as a kit in the paws of a monster.

Then, from behind, she heard it: Sorrow's piercing howl of fury. The signal to run right into the jaws of the blackest darkness that had ever overtaken the forest.

"I love you," she said to Declan.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and for a moment, time stopped. "I love you," he said. "Forever. You know that."

The scream grew louder and other voices joined it. It was hellish, a choir of trapped souls, of spirits of vengeance back from the grave, some unnatural, unearthly creature, shrieking down the mountainside like a gale.

The Sliders broke from cover and ran, right into the paws of the enemy.


	40. The Abyss

Kale pushed her along at a sharp clip, jostling her when she paused. The snow was freezing beneath her paws, coated in fresh powder from the storm.

"We'll be away from here," he muttered beneath his breath, shoving her with his shoulder. "Can't go back to the cliffs—they know to look there. We're going far from here, to the other side of the mountain. The Clans are all gone but their land is still there. We can live there and nobody will find us. Just wait, Hazel. You'll love me again once we're settled."

Hazel snarled. Her head swam, still full of stars and feathers from where Riff had hit her. Every fourth step brought such eye-watering nausea that she had to pause and hold her breath for a moment, waiting for it to pass.

And every time, Kale pushed her onwards, forcing her to keep moving.

If she were at her best, she could have fought. She would have killed him for this, for forcing her from her family, for trying to get her family killed—Declan, Twist, _Streak—_but she couldn't run. She could hardly walk. What she had to do now was bide her time. The moment would come. She had to be ready.

So until then, she walked.

At her other side, Riff followed suit, reluctant, wary, his eyes half-closed against the screaming wind. All the fur on his face was plastered with white ice. Sundance led the way, her golden fur like a beacon through the swirling snow.

All the while, Kale talked. "Sorrow told me all about the Claws, Hazel. I didn't want to believe her, about what happened with the Sliders. I knew of the war—every cat of the Claws does—but everything had been so twisted. Sorrow laid it bare. She told me how they took cats of the Sliders, how they polluted their minds. They did it to all the marked Sliders, to make them loyal to the Master. To Twist's father, the real mastermind."

That hit her like a punch in the gut. _Twist's father ruled the Claws? No wonder she worried about me so much. Kale is a Claw. She saw the darkness in him when I was blinded. _

Twist had been right all along. Hazel didn't even have the energy to be angry.

Kale kept going, even as his whiskers were weighed down with the ever-increasing gale of ice. He raised his voice. "Before, she'd told me the glory of the Claws. How we ruled over the forest like kings. How everybody loved us." He frowned bitterly. "But all that was a lie. She told me the truth. It was dark and it was sour but it was true. The Claws weren't beloved by the cats of this forest. We were _hated. _They despised us. And for good reason. The Master—my _father—_had cats killed to keep everybody repressed. He stole kittens from their families. He warped cats' minds into slaves. He destroyed lives. That's the legacy that Sorrow and I follow, Hazel. That's my bloodline. That's the cat you loved."

"You didn't do…any of those things." She couldn't feel her face. The way forward was a black tunnel, closing in. Only Sundance's golden fur kept her focused. "Your…family isn't you. You…_chose _to be the way you are. To try and kill my _family."_

Riff looked up sharply. "Kale—"

"Not. Now." Kale's teeth gritted. "So this is what you think of me? And you call yourself my mate?"

"I'm not your mate. Not anymore."

Kale growled softly beneath his breath. He pushed her on once more, and they walked on through the snow.

It was up to her shoulders now. Every step brought her chin down into the hard crust. Leaping through the thick fall exhausted her even more. Her vision was pinpricks now. Each breath felt like someone was sitting on her chest.

They were on a downward slope now. She felt the position of her paws change, more of her weight falling onto her tiptoes. Sundance picked her way down carefully, and Riff and Kale positioned Hazel just as cautiously, angling her into Sundance's pawprints.

Hazel stumbled as her paw gave way, sliding out from under her. Her jaw cracked against the stone ground, sharpening her vision for one, beautiful second. In that second of crispness, she saw the full moon, fat as a newborn kit, shining her light down on the mountainside. Ahead, the mountain fell away, giving view of a valley destroyed: smooth lines for no-pelt roads, shiny metal buildings, chewed earth dark in the silver light.

But past this damage she saw a wide lake from a dammed river, and on the other side, lush, thick grass, heavy willow trees, steppingstones that led to an island thick with rushes, and beyond, more heather and gorse than she could quantify.

"Do you see it, Hazel?" Kale leaned down into her vision, pale eyes full of excitement. But weary, frantic excitement. Off as a misplaced step. "Our new home. Sorrow told me all about it. The Clans were wrong. The no-pelts didn't destroy everything. They only halted it. Look how it grew back. All of it! And it's all ours. Yours and mine. We're going to be the new Claws. We can rebuild it, you and I. We'll find others who don't have homes and bring them in. We can _save _the Claws. We can redeem them! No cat's heard of them this side of the mountain. Can you imagine, Hazel? Imagine how great it's going to be. We can have friends here. We can have a family, strong kittens. Hopefully with your eyes. Whatever the Watchers have said about marked cats is wrong. You are unique. You are beautiful." He stepped closer to her, bending his head to press his muzzle against hers. She flinched away but he didn't seem to notice, though the idea of being with him—having his _kittens—_sickened her. "I'm going to make you happy again," he murmured against her cheek. He licked her ear and she shuddered. "And I'm going to make you love me again."

They continued downwards. With every sliding step, Hazel realized her chances of escaping were becoming narrower. Down there, she'd be lost for good. It was miles of unfamiliar land. She couldn't go to the valley. She couldn't go with Kale. He was lost now. No matter how he looked now, beneath his warmth, his love, he was wrong, broken, splintered and cracked like a dead tree. Diseased. She couldn't let her emotions get in the way of her logic.

There wasn't any more time. She couldn't wait for a chance. She had to make one.

The slope increased radically and Hazel realized what she had to do.

Her paw folded beneath her on her next step and she let it, letting the motion carry her body with it. Her shoulder hit the ground with a thud, and then gravity took over.

Sundance yowled in surprise as Hazel tumbled past her. The world spun around her as she fell, her body battered by the stone but the snow dampened the pain. She barely felt it with the cold.

She fell forever. Each time she hit the ground, she felt agony spike along her spine, but it was worth it, that pain, to be free of Kale and his poisoned mind. By the time the ground leveled out, she was already far out of their sight.

Brambles closed over her, darkening the moon, and the ground shifted to an earthy trench, some kind of animal den. Hazel slid to a stop on her stomach, fur clotted with dirt, paw aching like a badger bite, but she was alone. Above her, the thorns closed her into a cage, and behind her, she saw the weak glint of clean moonlight. Hope.

Kale was shouting outside her hiding place. Hazel heard his panicked breaths. "Spread out. Find her. She might be hurt."

"Kale…"

"Do what I say, Sundance," he snapped.

Paws pounded outside the brambles. Hazel pushed herself back further into their shelter, wincing as the barbs dug into her back. She was small enough to fit into the spaces between the roots, to where they met the broken dirt. As she pushed herself back, she realized that her plan had left her with a major drawback: her leg was dislocated. Even with her slight weight, it wouldn't hold steady. She couldn't move her paw at all. Every time she tried, it felt like someone was sinking their teeth into her shoulder.

_No! _She hadn't endangered herself like this to be trapped by an injury.

A bramble trailed down over her shoulder. Hazel sank her teeth into its woody stem and squeezed her eyes shut. Then, propping her dislocated paw between two rocks, she held it down with her other paw and jerked backwards.

She screamed through her teeth. It hadn't worked. Her entire foreleg was dead below the shoulder. It felt like the joint was packed with powdered glass.

Time was running out. Eyes watering, she reset and tried again. This time there was a _crack _and at once the pain faded. With a few ginger tests, she found she could put it flat without that sharp, splintering agony.

Outside it was silent aside from the increasing scream of the storm. _I must have fallen further than I thought. _Judging by the dirt coating her back, it had been a long drop down to the thorn bush.

_They're looking for me. _Kale might be out of his mind, but Sundance and Riff were only going along with him. If she could only get them alone, then maybe…

The brambles rustled.

Hazel froze. Her blood was rushing in her veins, singing in her head. She felt its thick beat in her throat, where her life-vein was, and in her chest, where her heart began to pound in heavy, slow pulses.

She would not be taken. She'd die first.

Her claws came out and her fur stood up along her back. She did not close her eyes.

She would not be taken.

A nose poked in but it wasn't delicate pink, but black. A white face followed. A narrow muzzle. Wide, yellow eyes, golden as the sun.

Hazel's entire body relaxed. "Streak."

And then she was against his chest and his tail was twined around hers and she was sobbing into his fur and he was holding her and, oh, it was so perfect and she loved him, she loved him, she loved him, and he knew, because of course he did and he had, all this time, and for a moment she knew that this was what they meant when they talked about love, that she had gone through this nightmare just for this, for him, and for the look in his yellow eyes when they met hers.

But then she knew what had to come next.

Carefully, she drew away from him, taking stock. There was a long bloody gash along his flank, sending frozen rivulets of blood through his fur. "You're hurt," she said, brushing it with a paw.

Streak closed his eyes for a moment, dropping into a sit. His body blazed with heat, exhaustion from running so hard for so long. "A scratch," he said, looking at her through half-closed eyes, the expression in them making everything in her twist wonderfully. "No more than that, Patch."

Hazel just looked at him for a moment. Had he always been so handsome? His features were fine, angled, narrow, but his eyes were wide and gold, darkened by the shadows around them, but overflowing with light. Had she always just taken him for granted, this strong, loyal tom? Had she really been so blind to him?

She ducked her head into his chest for a moment. "They're looking for me," she whispered. She could feel him trembling, could sense the exhaustion in him. _He ran this whole way, _she realized.

Streak nodded, eyes hardening. "They won't find you," he said.

Hazel shivered. "Streak, my parents—"

"There's a plan. Sorrow's. They're going to pretend to surrender and then they're going to kill Blackjack."

"And me? Did they know I was taken? Did they know that K-Kale took me?"

Streak closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers, still trying to catch his breath. Then his eyes opened and they were full of pain. "They thought you went with him," he whispered, searching her face.

Hazel froze. "I wouldn't. They knew. They knew I chose them. They…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I need to go to them. Where are they? You know the way, don't you?"

Streak hesitated for a moment. His paw was stroking down her back, tracing her tabby stripes. "Hazel, listen to me…"

"I know what you're going to say." She tipped her head back to look at him. They were so close that they were sharing breaths. "You're going to say we can just keep going, aren't you? You're going to say we don't have to live this way. That we don't have to go back."

He didn't say anything but his mouth turned into a soft frown.

Hazel angled her head. "You're going to say a lot of things for me. But they're not what you want. You don't want to keep going. You don't want to leave them. You want us to leave here and run back to the Sliders. You're going to live the rest of your life regretting just to keep me happy. Aren't you?"

Streak swallowed. "Hazel."

She put a paw on his mouth and he jumped a little in surprise. "But I don't want to be kept happy. I want to _be _happy. And the only way I can do that is if I'm with my family. And you." She dropped her paw to the ground that suddenly didn't feel so cold anymore.

He watched her, a conflicted look in his eyes. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Slowly, he closed it again.

She shrugged, her heart picking up. "I'm in love with you, Streak," she said, trying to make it sound simple, because it was. It was a culmination of her entire life, leading right up to this moment. It had been inevitable, it felt like. But it still felt like a miracle, that she was here, that Streak had been here with her all along. "Sorry it's taken me so long to catch on."

He let out a little, shaky laugh. He reached out and drew her to him, tucking his muzzle down against her neck. Into her fur, he whispered, "Hazel, I would have waited my whole life for you."

Hazel closed her eyes and tried to imagine the world like this. Like she had never left the Warren. Like she had never met Kale.

But she realized—none of this would have ever happened if she hadn't left. She wouldn't have found who she was. She wouldn't have grown. She would have been the same spoiled, selfish, self-centered kit she'd been back then. She never would have been anything but bitter, resentful, wanting to run, running to escape Declan and his patience, Twist and her guidance, Lucky and his pacifism, unable to see the good in those three things, unable to see beyond her own troubles that felt like mountains when they were only river stones.

Streak drew back from her. "This is our chance."

Hazel nodded. She took in a deep breath. "Let's go."

They ran up the mountainside like ghosts.

Hazel kept looking over her shoulder for Kale but she saw nothing but shadows and trees. The storm had blinded the world to her except in snatches. At the very top of the ridge, she looked back to Kale's world, his future for the two of them. In the patchy clouds, she saw it, but now she saw different things. The river was frozen and dark, the trees skeletal and bare, the no-pelt roads full of roaring monsters whose lights glared into her eyes.

Hazel looked at it for a moment more, the wind ruffling her fur. And then she turned away.

XXX

Blackjack had made his lair in the craggy mouth of a cave so deep, Declan couldn't see five paces inside. To one side, the mountain rose to a peak, lashed by the shrieking wind. To the other, the ground plummeted away into shadow so deep it looked like black water. Above the abyss floated airy mist, moving like the tide. The wind parted and swirled it. It was an impressive sight, meant to terrify. And it worked. Twist shivered at his side, her pupils so wide they swallowed up the yellow.

Declan knew this was her worst fear, that he'd asked her for this. That she'd wanted to come. But seeing her caught so deeply within her worst fear, the she-cat he adored, respected, admired more than any other being in the whole world, was ripping him up.

He could have been leading her right into death's jaws, but he knew there was no way she would have stayed behind.

By the time they arrived, harrowed along by the screams of Sorrow's Claws, the black tom was waiting for them.

He couldn't keep the gloating ecstasy off his face. Pacing back and forth in a tight line, all the hair along his back up, he looked like something out of a nightmare, all moon-reflecting eyes and winking claws. Behind him were the Watchers, silent, shivering, their faces impassive as the falling snow. Pets, all of them. They should have been at home with their no-pelts, safe and warm. Not out here on this desolate mountain. No cat deserved this. Not even a Watcher.

"Welcome," Blackjack said, deep voice curved with victory.

Midnight, a Claw from his memory, shoved Declan forward.

Blackjack leapt lightly down from his rock shelf and padded up, tail high. He stopped before Declan, wrinkling back his lips. "So it's come to this at last. This is the final verse in this kitten's tale, Declan. This is the moment when good triumphs over evil." He leaned closer. "Can't you feel the shift in the world? Justice will be done this night."

Declan felt so sick. His heart was racing at a nauseating pace in his chest. "I have a request to make, Blackjack."

Blackjack laughed. "And that is?"

"There are those among us who are not marked. I ask that they be spared from your justice." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of that last word, that fallacy, _justice. _As if murder had ever justified anything. As if taking the life of another had ever brought a loved one back.

Declan wanted to hate Blackjack. He wanted to wish the black tom dead, but he couldn't. He pitied him. Deep cracks had left Blackjack's mind this way, wounds that had festered instead of healed. Loss had altered him. It had changed his gravity. Blackjack would never be the same cat he'd been before the Rogue had killed his mother. He would never allow himself to look beyond his grief.

Blackjack's eyes widened. He looked wild. He was slipping, without the guiding touch of his sister. There was no one to keep him in check anymore. Even his own cats seemed terrified of him. "Did you mishear me before? I have presided over this matter and judged you all guilty. Those who went along with the odd-eyed devils are just as guilty as the criminals."

Declan gritted his teeth. He'd anticipated this. But it didn't make his next words any easier, though he'd rehearsed them in his mind a thousand times on the way here. "Then I offer my life to you, in exchange for theirs."

Beside him, Twist's body tightened.

But once again, Blackjack laughed. "You are not listening. You are not comprehending. I denounce your attempts at martyrdom. I denounce everything you stand for and declare you guilty, and for that, you will all die."

It felt like his throat was closing up. "Then let it end with us. There are no more marked cats in the Warren. Every Slider that's marked is here with us now or…or gone. Please, Blackjack." The wind picked up. Declan was shivering so hard his teeth were chattering, and his jaw was going numb from trying to stop it.

Blackjack had a musing look on his face. His cats remained silent, silent as the Claws behind them. Trapped between two enemies.

Declan breathed out shakily. "Let this end," he begged, his words stolen by the wind.

The storm was getting worse with each second. It sounded hellish, condemned cats screaming their agony. It filled Declan's ears until there was nothing in the world but the shrieking and his own heartbeat.

Once before he'd stood in front of Blackjack this way and begged for mercy. And once before he'd been rejected, attacked, and only luck had saved them. Audrey.

Now Audrey was just another ragged pelt in the pack behind him, mute as the rest.

Blackjack looked at Declan speculatively. "You are a good leader," he said. "I'm surprised to think it, but it's true. You would lay down your life for these devils?"

"Yes," he said, trembling. His throat was dry. "I would. Absolutely."

Blackjack put his head to the side, like a kit. He had a look of deep confusion in his empty green eyes. "Why?"

It was the question of the deeply uncomprehending. He simply could not understand. Declan could see it in his eyes, that abyssal confusion. Blackjack led, yes. But he led fearful followers. Declan realized in that moment that that was the key difference, that the Watchers followed out of fear and the Sliders followed out of respect.

He realized in that same second that he couldn't answer Blackjack's question, because the Watchers' leader would never understand, not if he lived for a thousand seasons. He was missing the part of a cat that allowed that. He would never be whole. Maybe he'd traded his chance when he took up his revenge. Maybe he'd always been broken.

Declan just shook his head, and Blackjack's confusion increased.

"You won't answer?" When Declan remained silent, Blackjack let out a little sound of surprise. "The enigma grows. I have often wondered at my enemy's thoughts. But it appears that not even my enemy can explain them. Curious."

Behind him, Declan heard a cat begin to breathe hard. Someone had realized this was it and had begun to panic. Another cat whispered calming murmurs to them, but whoever it was refused to be soothed. The breathing grew more ragged, shivering and desperate.

Blackjack turned away quickly. Declan, in his distraction, missed the chance of his exposed neck before he turned back, sidelong, his tail curving up over his back.

Then he sat. "One at a time," he said, relaxing his claws, letting them extend. "Declan, you may choose who goes first."

_He's asking me to pick who dies first. _Declan's stomach turned. He closed his eyes as the pain in his chest intensified.

Sorrow's cats shoved them all forward. The panicked sounds of the cat in the Sliders grew louder, until it was right in Declan's ear. Silky black fur touched his cheek and he knew who it was at once.

_Lightfoot. Oh, stars, it's Lightfoot. _

The bravest of them all. Her eyes were all pupils. Her mouth was open, her breath in his face, foul with terror.

"Pick…me." Her voice was a terrible rasp. Something was wrong with her eyes—they kept shivering around, not focusing. There was foam at the corner of her mouth.

The world came to a halt.

Half a moon ago, she'd fought off a wolf to save Hazel. He knew that. And in each day since then, she'd drawn into herself more, said less, moved less. In the training, she'd sat and directed verbally, conserving her energy. She'd ate almost nothing but drank and drank and drank until her belly swelled with water and even then, she drank more. When she had spoken, it had been strange, things she wouldn't say. Her ferocity was gone, tamed by something Declan had thought was progressing age, but now he realized the terrible truth.

_She's rabid. _That explained the panting, the smell, the trembling in her body. She was fighting the sickness and now, after half a moon, she was finally losing.

"Lightfoot," he choked out. Everything he wanted to say was lost—how much he owed her for coming with them, how much he owed her for saving his life too many times to count, for saving Hazel, for watching over them all, how much he admired her, even how much he loved her, the hard-hearted, ferocious, beautiful she-cat who was wild as a windstorm but loyal to the very end.

She frowned, eyes sharp. "I don't…want your pity…you _stupid _tom," she said, with her old snap. "I want…your understanding. Don't be thick. Use me. One…last time."

Twist had the same awful realization in her eyes. Her gaze met Declan's and she nodded, throat working.

Declan turned back to Lightfoot.

She didn't wait for an answer. Head bent, she pushed forward, right up to Blackjack.

He watched her come, amusement lighting his eyes. "You've picked well, Declan. Your strongest warrior. Tell me, she-cat, what's your name? I want to keep your name in the grand story when I tell it to my kits."

Lightfoot mumbled something. Blackjack perked his ears, frowning.

"Speak up," he ordered, sounding much less amused. To two of his cats, he said, "Hold her down."

As they took up positions on either side, lowering Lightfoot onto her belly, Blackjack approached.

"Now," he said again, laying a paw on her forehead to push her muzzle into the stone. "Say it again. Tell me your name. I command it."

Lightfoot bared her teeth. She laughed her cruel laugh, edged with manic excitement. "I'm Lightfoot," she said, glaring up at him. "And believe me…they're going to be telling this story for _years."_

And like a flash of lightning, she sank her teeth into his foreleg.

XXX

Hazel and Streak flew across the stone, leaping over rocks, ducking under arches, retracing the steps Kale had forced her down.

Streak led the way, his steps surer than hers, but he leapt back each time she stumbled to correct her path.

Time was sand against her pelt: with every step, more shook off and less was left. They needed to hurry.

The path widened in front of them like a mouth. Streak plunged into it and Hazel was right on his heels, twisting her head around in shock when she heard a shriek of pain.

"That's Blackjack!" Hazel gasped.

Streak didn't respond but his path changed.

The peak of the mountain rose ahead of them like a claw. They clawed up the ridge and found themselves above the action below, where a black tom howled and shrieked curses at a trapped black-and-white she-cat with teeth in his foreleg.

"Lightfoot!" Streak rasped, as Lightfoot used her grip on Blackjack's leg to move to his throat, but there was something off, something wrong. Any other time, that would have meant a death sentence.

Now, he just shook her off like a kitten, his throat a red wreck of blood. She hit the ground hard, landing on her side, but she was laughing, loud and long and crazed. It echoed around the mountains, singing in through the tatters of wind ripping into Hazel's ears.

Blackjack snarled something that was lost in the wind. He stalked towards her, shoulders tense.

Hazel's stomach dropped and heavy dread filled the hollow. "Streak." Streak didn't move beside her, like he was carved of ice.

Smoothly, Blackjack drew back his paw.

_"Streak!"_ Hazel screamed.

There was no noise as Lightfoot's throat was slashed, no noise as she slumped to the ground. Even as the blood appeared, very bright against the snow, Hazel didn't understand, because there was no way that could have just happened, and there was no way that Lightfoot could be dead.

She didn't realize she was moving until there was fresh powder under her paws.

The calm broke. The Sliders rushed forward, and the group of cats behind them, too. They overwhelmed the Watchers, ready with claws and fangs, and immediately began to rip at them.

Hazel was halfway down the ridge when she recognized a pale pelt racing towards the action.

_Kale. _He was running desperately, eyes wide. Riff and Sundance were with him. Hazel followed his gaze and saw his target: his sister Sorrow.

Sorrow was fighting two cats at once. Kale slipped in beside her and shoved one back, taking it on himself. Riff matched him with smooth synchronicity while Sundance found a new opponent, her lips all wrinkled back from her fangs.

Streak managed to get ahead of her and barreled into the nearest Watcher, a brown tabby tom with a bright red collar the color of Lightfoot's blood. They tumbled over and over until Streak gained control, smooth as a river.

A tom came up against her, his silky white pelt all ripped and torn. He bared his teeth at her, ducking his head, preparing.

Hazel, half-blinded by grief and rage, still found his life-vein beneath his pretty fur.

After he was dead, Hazel looked up. His blood was sticky on her mouth. Streak had sent his tom squalling down the mountainside, but said nothing of her bloody chin as he rejoined her.

Blackjack was set against the wall, back arched. In front of him stood Marco, Whirlaway, North, Jade, Kaltag. _Twist. _

He was spitting curses, favoring his front leg, which was ripped down to the bone. His throat was open, aspirated, each breath bringing wheezing. Hazel ran up to him, taking up position on Twist's other side.

Twist's yellow eyes widened when she saw her. Relief replaced the shock almost at once.

The fighting stopped. It happened almost at once, after the Watchers realized their leader was cornered. Sorrow's cats held them down while she stalked across the snow, Declan at her side, fur torn but intact. Hazel felt her legs weaken.

"Look at this," Sorrow said sardonically, flicking her tail from side to side. "I do love seeing you like this, Blackjack."

His eyes were wide. Each breath was more panicked than the last, short and fast. "The she-cat," he hissed. "She had the water sickness."

"How quaint. _Rabies _is the word you're looking for, fearless leader. And yes, she did. Now you do. In time. You're dead, any way you look at it." Sorrow didn't laugh but she should have. This was the moment.

Hazel shivered. If she'd been Lightfoot, she would have laughed. Lightfoot always laughed at her victims, bantered with them, played with them like she would have played with a mouse. Lightfoot would have outlived the stars trying to have the last word.

Beyond Blackjack, snow was falling on Lightfoot's still form, covering up her black back.

Blackjack curled his lips up. "And you," he said, looking to his Watchers. "Will none of you fight for me?"

They looked amongst each other. Some were young, some were old. Some wore collars. Some looked frightened, some tired. They were _cats. _As evil as their actions, they were just cats, just like the Sliders.

Not one of them said a word in their leader's defense.

Blackjack wouldn't let that rest. He screamed, a raw-throated, unnatural sound. "_Cowards! _You're swayed by the devils too, aren't you? Or you're just the devils in disguise like these ones! Traitors to the cause, all of you. I'll see you dead for this. I'll—" He broke off with a weird, keening snarl, his eyes so wide Hazel could see the white all the way around the green.

_He's mad, _Hazel realized. This was madness in its purest form. He was just a shivering, jabbering wreck of a creature, looking so small and helpless that Hazel almost pitied him.

Almost.

XXX

"Enough, Blackjack." Declan moved forward past the line of cats. Twist watched him go, cold fury in her chest.

After so many years of living with the Sliders, she never thought she'd be able to feel such cold, wild hatred again. But now, watching Blackjack rip open Lightfoot's throat again and again, she felt it well up in her, that old fury, the mountain-born hatred of her gang, of her father.

Declan stopped before the leader of the Watchers. There was nothing in his eyes but terrible pity. No anger. No rage. But Twist saw his truth in the stiffness of his legs, in the riling of his fur along his spine. It was the most livid she'd ever seen him and still he looked upon his enemy with sympathy.

Blackjack curled himself smaller against the freezing stone. "Go ahead and get it over with," he spat. "I know how this is going to end. So end it."

Sorrow stared at him coldly. "You said you presided over this matter. I will now do so with you."

Blackjack curled his lip as she approached, shoulder to shoulder with Declan.

Sorrow looked down at him. Never in her life had Hazel seen somebody look so imperiously scathing. Blackjack might as well have been dung Sorrow had stepped in. She looked at him with all the revulsion of a cat who had just overturned a river rock and found something unsightly and pale clinging to its underside.

Then she spoke. "Arrow. Hunter. Poppy. Russet. Bluebell. Falcon."

Twist didn't understand what she was doing until she said the word, "Bronze." _The cats he's killed, _she realized, stomach sinking as the list went on, going down the line of all the murders Blackjack had committed, that his Watchers had gone along with.

Sorrow talked for so long. And every cat listened. The Claws kept their eyes trained on the cat that had thinned their numbers, killed their families, their parents, their children. The Watchers said nothing, but they dropped their eyes to the stone. Sparrow and Anole were side by side, bloodied but alive. Streak came up alongside Hazel, his lip ripped, his side slashed, limping. But alive.

Across the half-circle, Twist saw Kale and her hatred doubled. _He's come limping back after stealing my kit. This can go badly for him. _If he did anything, Twist would have something to say. And if she were lucky, something to hit.

Finally, Sorrow fell silent. The quiet lasted for a long moment before Declan took it up.

"Jaybird," he said. "Pip. Max." Marco closed his eyes in pain. "Vega. Slash. Gravel."

The old gray tom blazed in Twist's mind, his bright eyes and his laughing mouth, and the way the snow had stolen him away from her in that last, lucid second.

Declan continued. "Shot. Felix. Adder."

Streak bowed his head. Violet leaned into him, her eyes closed in pain.

Declan had to stop and steady himself for a moment, his throat working. Then he managed, "Lightfoot."

Whirlaway was next. He'd taken Flare's place the whole battle, and now he was stepping up once again. "Magic. Remy. Soren. Dawson. Sammy. Tuck."

Blackjack didn't look at anybody while the names continued. He stared down at his bleeding foreleg, breathing in and out shallowly, watching the blood drip from his wounded throat. Twist wondered if he was even listening. He probably didn't care. All he could think of was himself and the toxin flowing through his veins from Lightfoot's last revenge.

Finally, the list was over. Twist's eyes went back to Declan, but he was looking to Sorrow.

Her lips wrinkled back. "Do you have anything to say? Anything you want to apologize for? Anything at all before I kill you?"

Blackjack looked up at her. His eyes were empty, blank, flat as river stones. And all of a sudden, he looked very young. He couldn't have been much older than Streak and his siblings. Twist had never noticed.

"Beg," Sorrow said, with relish. Her tail curled up over her back. "Beg for your life. Beg for my mercy. Curse me. Spite me. Plead for your worthless life. Make me promises. Swear you'll change. Tell me how you'll fight me. Tell me how you'll never come back, how you'll never hurt another one of my cats if I let you live. _Beg for your life_."

Blackjack just looked up at her with blank eyes. "Let him do it," he said, nodding to Declan. "He's the leader, isn't he? He's the one who gave the order to kill me. So let him bloody his paws with my death."

Declan flinched. Twist felt her mouth open, a sharp reply already prepped on her tongue. But this wasn't her fight. And for once, adding her voice wouldn't do any good.

Declan had to decide for himself.

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. Then he padded forward.

Blackjack, who had been hunched on the ground, stood tall as Declan approached. Declan was nose-for-nose as tall as Blackjack, but he was stronger, more muscled. Blackjack looked thin as a reed, with the wind pressing down all his long black hair.

Blackjack narrowed his eyes when Declan paused. "Do it," he said. "You want to."

Declan looked back calmly. "You will watch us bury our dead first," he said. "And then you will have my judgment."

XXX

Hazel watched Blackjack's eyes widen with surprise, an emotion she felt wasn't in her anymore. Declan turned away and Blackjack's gaze followed him. Without turning around, Declan said, "Sorrow."

"Fine." She flicked her tail and gestured to two of the biggest Claws. They took up position on either side of Blackjack, not touching him, but watching.

The world had shifted. Just like that, Declan had laid an order to the Claws, to Sorrow, the firstborn of the enemy.

And she'd _obeyed._

Sorrow, imperious, looked at the Watchers. "You have to go," she said, silver eye hard as metal. "You can't go back to the valley. You have to go somewhere else."

The Watchers looked amongst themselves. One of them finally spoke up, a gold she-cat. "Where?" she asked. "Where could we possibly go? We can't go back to our housefolk. Your cats will kill us if we step one paw in that valley!"

"Yes," Sorrow said simply. Her tail-tip twitched back and forth evenly, even as the hunger in her eyes intensified.

Audrey stepped forward. Hazel watched her birth mother pad up to the little she-cat who'd spoken, tired patience in her eyes. "Lily," she said. "You were kind to me when I was with your group. You took care of me." She drew in a breath and held it for a moment. "Let me take care of you. I'll lead the Watchers down from the mountain."

"_What?"_ Twist demanded. "Audrey, you can't be serious. These cats killed Sliders!"

Audrey shook her head. "No, only Blackjack did and he's dead now. His actions have condemned them all. Who will take them in now? Who will shelter his cats? Sorrow will kill them."

"I should kill them now," Sorrow said, and the Claws murmured their agreements. Even Kale. He looked at Blackjack with all the loathing of his sister, and for the first time, Hazel saw the resemblance between them.

Audrey glared at her. "Once, you and I stood together to face your father. Once we were allies, Sorrow."

"That was years and lifetimes ago, Audrey," Sorrow said. "Long buried."

Audrey pushed on. "I would have done what you would not. I would have killed the Rogue for you. For me. For Snit." She blinked, pain in her eyes. "You owe me this. Give me these cats' lives and you will never see us again."

Sorrow just stared at her.

Shuffling her away from the crowd and listening ears, Declan said, "Audrey, you can come home with us. You can come back to the Warren. Lucky would let you back in."

Audrey laughed shakily. "I know," she said in a low voice. "I know he would. But that's not my life anymore."

"And Hazel?" Twist demanded. "What about her?"

There was a beat of silence. Then Declan said, "We need to tend to the cats we lost. Marco, Stripes, come help me. Twist, why don't you go with Sorrow to keep an eye on Blackjack?"

Twist knew how to take a hint. With one last look at Hazel, she led Sorrow away, leaving Hazel and Audrey in relative privacy. Streak lingered for a moment until Hazel nodded, then he went to join the others.

Audrey looked immediately awkward. She stared down at her paws. "I know we haven't had much time to talk," she said. "And I know this must be hard on you—"

"No," Hazel said. "Let me go first."

Audrey closed her mouth.

"I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "I know you feel like you owe me something. I know you feel like I'll be angry and bitter with you. But you don't owe me anything. I get it. You're my mother. But that's only blood. The truth is that Twist is my mother. She's been my mother my whole life and I've never let myself admit it. But I do now." She looked at her paws. "She's been the best mother any cat could be. She's always been patient with me. And I love her." She lifted her eyes back to Audrey. "I know I could love you too, Audrey. But you'd be my friend. You'd never be my mother."

Audrey paused for a moment. "You know," she said in a low voice. "I'd always imagined this going differently. A thousand times. More. I never thought I'd be gone so long. I always thought I'd come home to the Warren and you'd still be a little kit. You'd fall into my paws and we'd be a real family. That's what I wanted. In the beginning." She sighed heavily, looking towards the Watchers. "I had a family with them, you know. Lily was my best friend. They're good cats but…they need guidance. They need me." Turning, she met Hazel's eyes, a paler green than Declan's but just as warm. "I want to go with them. But I want you to be okay with that."

Hazel looked at this cat who was her mother. She could see similarities—eye shape, white paws, white chest, even the small-set ears. But family was more than relation.

"I am," she said. "And I wish you luck, Audrey."

Audrey moved toward her hesitantly, then touched her nose to Hazel's. "Thank you, Hazel. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

She bounded away before Hazel could say more and Streak came up. He sat next to her, wordless, and Hazel sighed. For a while, they watched the others gather the fallen cats. Aside from Lightfoot, all of the Sliders had made it through the battle. Two Watchers had died in the battle: one that Hazel killed, the white tom, and another who'd been taken out by Sorrow herself.  
>Streak didn't say anything for a while. Then, quietly, "Well?"<p>

Hazel sighed heavily, her breath clouding in the cold air. "She's going with the Watchers," she said. "To where, I don't know. Maybe down into the forest where the Clans lived. Maybe they'll stay here in the mountain."

"And how do you feel about that?" The warm weight of his eyes was on her, steady as firelight.

Hazel shrugged a shoulder. "I think I should feel something. But I don't know Audrey. I know stories of her, but I know stories of shadowcats from kit bedtime stories. She has as much substance. But I won't be angry at her for her choices. Stars know I've made enough bad choices for a lifetime."

Her eyes went to Kale, sitting with the Watchers. He looked unsteady, leaning on Sundance's shoulder. He was looking at something through the crowd that Hazel couldn't see.

Her heart squeezed. She didn't love him anymore, but she had, and he'd betrayed her. He'd tried to take away everything she loved and put himself in their places. As if he could replace Twist or Declan or Streak. As if, by taking them away, he could fill their void. Like oozing mud filling a pocket where a stone had been.

Streak tensed. "Hazel…"

"I'm fine." She stood. "Let's go help the others. I want…I want to see Lightfoot laid to rest."

The Sliders were regrouping, taking stock. Everybody was fine—a few scratches, some bites, Iggy had a twisted hind paw—but everybody was still alive.

But one was missing.

Hazel drifted to Lightfoot. Marco was sitting with her, his head bowed. He looked up as Hazel and Streak approached.

"She saved us," he said, blinking blankly. "She knew… Stars, she knew for weeks she was going to die. And she held on."

Hazel looked down at Lightfoot. Someone had padded her throat with lichen, blocking the damage. Her eyes were closed, her paws folded. She looked like she could be sleeping. But Lightfoot never rested so easily.

"She was brave." Streak laid his tail across Hazel's back. "Crazy, yes. Bloodthirsty. But brave."

"And beautiful," Hazel put in. "She'd say that, if she were here."

Marco let out a strangled-sounding laugh. "You know, one time, she hit me over the head for daring to look at her funny. She said I looked like I needed a good smack every so often, to keep me in line."

"Remember when she took us out with my littermates and Max?" Streak asked Marco. "She said someone would win a special prize if we caught something."

"And when Whisper _did _catch something, Lightfoot picked a fight with her and told her the lesson was to respect her elders." Marco's whiskers twitched for a moment, then his eyes clouded. "Stars. Max. Adder. And now Lightfoot. I'm…I'm going to miss her."

Hazel looked down at her once more. "She never told me…she was sick. I mean, I was there with her when it happened. But she told me the wolf never bit her."

"She wouldn't have wanted us to worry about her," Declan said, padding up to them. "She didn't want anyone to know. She fought, like she always did. But she couldn't win this battle."

Hazel reached out and touched Lightfoot's foreleg. She was cold from the snow. Hazel brushed some off, smoothing her fur flat. "But she cared about us, in the end. She loved us."

Declan sat next to Hazel, wrapping his fluffy tail around her. "She did. I believe it."

They buried Lightfoot beneath a cleft in the rock that was brimming with blue-flowered vines, beside the abyss. As Iggy and Kaltag smoothed the snow back, it was silent. Then Twist began to speak.

She spoke of Lightfoot's loyalty, how she'd come on the journey as a mission to Lucky. She spoke of Lightfoot's intelligence, how she'd taught them all how to survive in a fight. She spoke of Lightfoot's sharp wit, her silver tongue, her singular flat laugh.

Hazel sat with her head bent, between her and Streak. It seemed like this price was too high, that Lightfoot's loss couldn't be borne. Already, her absence smarted among the group like an unhealed wound.

Even after Twist had fallen silent, they stayed in the circle. The snow had covered Lightfoot's grave. It was just another patch of snow now.

Hazel felt a lump form in her throat. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut to try and force it away, but she didn't. She needed to feel this, this pain. It hurt because it was important, because she'd loved Lightfoot, because she was going to miss the crotchety she-cat for the rest of her life.

And all the while, Blackjack watched. Raptly but uncomprehendingly. His fallen Watchers had been given similar treatment, and still, he didn't say a word. His eyes tracked Declan with all the watchfulness of the hiding mouse, waiting for the hawk. He was waiting for Declan's sentence.

It couldn't be put off any longer. With the cats buried, Declan turned back to Blackjack.

Blackjack tensed on the ground, curled tighter, but Declan didn't strike. Hazel hadn't expected him to.

He looked down on Blackjack with pity. With remorse. With anything but what Hazel was feeling boiling up in her chest, hot as fire. "You will leave this place," he said quietly, words snatched by the wind. "You will go down the mountain into the forest. You will find your way for a few days, maybe a few weeks. After that, the poison in your veins, the water sickness, will devour you."

Blackjack narrowed his eyes.

Declan went on, still in that same calm voice. "It will go for your throat first. You will drink water until your belly feels like bursting. Then it will go for your brain, and you will feel like there's kindling in your skull. Then it will go through your nerves like lightning, until you wish for death every second you are awake." Declan blinked. "I won't kill you. Lightfoot already did."

Blackjack let out a short, humorless laugh. "That is the judgment of the kindhearted leader of the devils? Suffering? Torture? Kill me now and get it over with. Why let me go on when you know I'll die anyway?"

"Because, in my whole life, I have only killed one cat, and I have seen his face every day. I don't want that for you. I don't want to remember you. After today, I will not picture your face. I won't see you in my nightmares. I refuse. You have done too much to my family for me to spend any more time thinking of you. This way, you will disappear from all our lives. Your name will not be spoken in the Sliders. You will not be remembered. You will be wiped away. Deleted. Our kits will not know you, or your name, or what you've done. You don't deserve to live on in any way, in any form, in any life. You have done the unforgivable to the Sliders and to your own group." He blinked. "That is my sentence to you, Blackjack. Anonymity. Nothingness."

It was the worst that someone could do to a cat like Blackjack, who aimed for glory. To be forgotten entirely. Even worms left tracks behind, undeniable proof of their presence. Declan was denying Blackjack of even that.

XXX

_ This must end. _

Twist watched Blackjack receive the sentence with a grim tightness in her stomach. In Declan's place, she would have proclaimed death. She would have let Sorrow handle it, if she couldn't. At any cost, at any price, _this had to end._

Blackjack drew up, lips curled back. "This is the mercy of the devils?"

"It is." Declan bent his head to him, his enemy, and Twist felt a rush of pride so strong it closed her throat. He was everything she wasn't—kind, pacifistic, selfless. What other leader would offer such a deal to one who had done what Blackjack had?

Blackjack hissed, "And if I don't want it?"

Declan lifted his head.

Time stopped.

Everything turned clear and sharp as glass as Blackjack coiled his legs, claws extended. Twist breathed in, the sound the only thing in the world, as Blackjack began his leap.

There was nothing between Declan and the cliff. The group had clustered the other way, closer to the cave. Only Declan stood between Blackjack and the abyss. He had done it that way on purpose, to take the weakest stance to protect the rest. No one would guard an enemy with the crevasse behind them. Declan had taken it for them.

Half a second had passed and Blackjack was halfway to Declan.

Nobody could move. Not even Sorrow, on the opposite side of the circle, with her Claws. Her eye had widened, though. Twist saw it all in that same, hyper-clear second, just as she saw Hazel's mouth begin to frame Declan's voice.

One second. Declan started to recoil, to bring up his paws to bat Blackjack away. But he would never make it in time. Blackjack had no concerns for his own life. The abyss probably seemed like a better option than the long, drawn-out mercy Declan had offered.

Two seconds.

_This has to end. This has to end. Stars above, this cannot go on any longer._

The mountains had made Twist quicker than the others. She was small. She was swift. She could weave in and out from between cats' legs better than any cat in the Sliders.

_This has to end._

At any cost.

At any price.

Three.

Blackjack screamed in surprise as Twist barreled into his side. Her claws found his fur and snagged there, keeping him prisoner. Her weight pushed his balance, made him stumble past Declan to the edge.

For an endless second, Blackjack teetered. Twist, clinging to his side, could barely touch the ground with her toes.

Declan's eyes met hers over Blackjack's shoulder. Horror filled his face. "_No!"_

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and she knew he understood, even if he couldn't hear her.

Then Blackjack toppled over the edge, bringing Twist down into the abyss with him.


	41. The End

_The taste of salt was in her mouth. Water closed over her head, blocking her from the air. From her mouth spun silver bubbles, winding their way towards the sunlight._

_Twist hung suspended in the water. She thought she should be afraid, being this deep beneath the waves, but when she looked up, all she could see was light streaming in through the water in rippling bands, beautiful gold and silver and blue-green. She was being ferried along by some unseen current, lifted to the air._

_ Her head broke the surface and she breathed in._

_ All around her for miles stretched endless water. It was summertime here, and a wind so rich and warm it made her shiver, ruffled her soaking ears. Above, white birds with black-tipped wings circled, calling out to each other. The sound was distant as thunder._

_ She heard the waves crashing behind her. _The shore, _she understood, even without looking. The water seemed to understand. The current moved, pulling her around, turning her towards a white sand beach. _

_Twist swam._

_Paddling didn't take any effort at all. She might as well have been standing still. Even when she pulled herself ashore, her legs didn't tremble. She'd spent the past year shivering in the bitter cold, but now she felt comfortably warm._

_Ahead of her was rolling hills, dotted with forests. At the shore, it seemed like the land came to a gentle slope. It was all upwards from here. _

_The sun was rising or setting, she couldn't tell. But it bathed the hills in a misty orange light, turning everything to shadow._

_Twist looked. She blinked. She wasn't afraid._

"Twist! Twist, where are you? Twist!"

_The sand here was dotted with pawprints. Cat prints. It was a clear trail leading down towards a rocky shoal that extended into the water. The end was blocked by the glare of the orange sun, making her wince. Twist found herself following the path without remembering making the decision to. _

_The ground underfoot felt soft as kitten fur. As she trotted, it kicked up behind her in puffs, clinging to her drying fur. The sky was the same gold-orange as the sun, dotted with early stars._

_The shoal branched up into a cave of sorts. It soared over Twist's head. Inside, the ceiling was all blue crystal, shining with twinkling lights. Twist blinked and they _moved, _forming new patterns, deleting the old, changing shape as quickly as she could follow. _

"I found her! Twist, can you hear me? Twist, move your paw if you can hear me. Move your paw. Blink. Anything. Come on, you can't do this to us. You can't do this to Hazel and Declan. Twist? Twist?"

_It didn't feel any cooler inside the cave, but Twist missed the feel of the orange sun on her back. By now, her pelt was completely dry, without a trace of salt against her fur. _

_This place was full of more silver shadows. They moved in groups, alone, together, blending, mixing, changing. She couldn't keep track. It felt like everything was moving in slow-motion, making the images bleed into each other._

_She wasn't confused. She was curious. There was no threat here. Everything was calm as smooth water. _

_Outside the cave, the sea sighed. The orange sun glowed like a mother's eye, and Twist felt drawn to it._

_As she went to leave the cave, to head towards the sun, there was a shadow in the way. A darker one than the silver ones that played and danced and flowed behind her. This one was a cat, distinctly, with a pelt made of white snow and patches of night. _

_For the first time since waking up, Twist felt something in her chest, a brass roar that was building up in her heart, waking it back from this dreamy contentment._

_This was the cat who had started and ended it all._

_Snit._

XXX

"What are you doing here?" Twist demanded. Her voice cut through the serenity like a shard of ice. "You're dead."

Snit watched with sardonic eyes. They were the brightest thing about him and always had been, but now they glowed like the crystal ceiling. "I wanted you to know what you were about to do."

"What?" She looked around. The silver shadows played on, but now she noticed they looked like cats. She picked out pointed ears, long tails, even shining whiskers. The cave she was in echoed with the soft shush of the water.

She hadn't even questioned it before, but now it all came rushing back to her.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

Her voice bounced around the cave, stirring the silver shadows. They turned to her, all comfort, all warm understanding, and the realization crushed the air from her lungs.

"I'm dead," she said, her heart slamming in her chest. "Stars, it killed me, the fall. Didn't it?"

Snit watched her for a moment. She'd forgotten how annoying that wry look of his was, like he was always laughing at her. It snapped her back.

"And what, you're here to gloat? To mock me? To tell me 'I told you so,' is that it?" She stepped forward and prodded him in the chest. He felt very solid and very real. Which only made her panic increase. If he were dead, or a ghost, wouldn't her paw pass through him like mist? Why was it that she could touch him?

Snit pushed her paw away and rubbed his chest, looking resentful. "_No. _I'm not going to do any of those things. I didn't think you understood what was happening. I've seen thousands come through here and walk right through this cave across that bridge." He flicked his tail to the shoal, still glowing with the sun's light. Growing light? Dying light? She still couldn't tell. "And they always have the same moony face you did. You didn't even notice, did you? You would have just left everything?"

Twist was still looking at the sun. It called to her. It rang in her bones like instinct. She wanted it. She wanted to go there.

But she stopped. She looked back to Snit. The only real thing in this whole place.

He leaned closer. He did have Hazel's eyes, even in the right colors. They matched, the two, in this way if no other.

"You aren't dead," he said in a soft voice. "Not yet, anyway."

_Someone touched her face, tipped her chin back. Her eyes were half-open but she still couldn't see anything but shadows misting across her vision. "Streak, get over here! Do something!" The voice got louder as the cat turned back. "Don't you do this to me, Twist. Don't you dare leave me. Not after—" There was a terrible wrenching gasp and the voice stopped._

Twist shook her head. Numbness was spreading through her limbs. She shook all over. "I…I'm…"

"No." Snit put his head to one side. "But you're close. You're right on the edge. Can't you feel it? Concentrate."

Twist closed her eyes.

_Her eyes grew more focused. There were cats around her, slow-moving, blurring shapes with less substance than a dream. Their voices littered over each others', blocking out any reason. It was cold, so cold. _

_Everything in her body pulled down to one singularity: pain._

_She was in agony. She was dying. Everything in her was broken, broken, broken and she couldn't even scream to let it out. Blood beat in her brain like pounding rain during a thunderstorm. It pooled around her, crystallizing in her fur. She was dying._

With a gasp, she opened her eyes. She was back by the water, by Declan's sea, and Snit was watching her carefully, hungrily, his eyes roving hers.

"Well?" he asked.

Twist shook her head, one quick jerk. "I'm alive," she said. "But I…I can't possibly be for much longer. My body, it's… There's so much pain everywhere and I—"

"And you what?" Snit demanded dryly. Now he stood and came over closer to her, his tail twisting from one side to the other. "You don't want to go back? You don't want to stay alive?"

"My father fell from the mountain, too," she said in a low voice, her teeth chattering. "He was a mess. Disgusting. He shouldn't have survived. I told myself I wouldn't have wanted that. And now…"

"You are not your father. You are not the monster that stole kittens from their families. You are not something that cats would be willing to lose."

"They can lose me," she found herself saying, desperately maybe, pathetically. That pain had set into her bones. It had become her reality, in just that one split second.

She'd done her job. She'd killed Blackjack.

Wasn't that enough?

Snit gave her a withering stare. "This is Twist? The cat who killed the monster stalking the valley? Twist, the cat who tried to kill her own father after he threatened her mother? Twist, the cat that ended the war between the Claws and Sliders when all I could do was exacerbate it? This is you saying this? Saying you prefer death over life?"

He padded around her in a circle. It made her feel small and foolish, and Snit often had in life. But this was different. His jabs had been kitten-soft next to these barbs.

Snit stopped walking and sat down. He narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I can change your mind."

The ground lurched beneath her paws. Twist gasped. By the time she recovered, the sea was gone, the crystal ceiling, the silver shadows.

There was a dark lump in the center of the dark, windswept space, facedown in the snow. It took her a long moment to recognize herself.

Her shoulders looked wrong. One of her hind legs was bent the opposite way. There was a bend in her tail. Her side was gashed open, bleeding into the white.

But a flicker of life was left in her. She saw it almost like a waving flame, a shadow in the dark fur of her chest.

"Look," Snit whispered, and her head turned.

Another dark body, moving feebly in the snow. This one not as lucky. Blackjack's heavier bulk had slammed him into rocks on the way down. The flame in him was darker, weaker, and as Twist watched, it sputtered out. Blackjack fell still, and the wind whispered over his dark pelt.

Twist's body moved, and Twist felt it in this strange presence she was now like a trapped heartbeat. A spark of pain ran along her spine and she hissed in surprise from it.

_I'm destroyed, _she thought, looking aghast at what her last effort had done.

"Watch," Snit said, again in that hollow whisper.

Shapes came picking down from the cliffs, dots of color against the gray. They raced across the ground and stopped by her side.

The first to reach her was Streak. Streak, proud and brave and kind-hearted, was calling her name pitifully like a baby bird, all brokenness and fear. Hazel met him strike for strike, and as soon as her eyes set on the body, she began to sob.

Sorrow next. Then Whirlaway. And finally Declan.

"No," he choked out. He pushed past the others and dropped onto his belly next to her, tipping her chin back out of the snow. Twist could see a gleam of yellow in her half-opened, dull as sulfur.

Her heart ached. _Declan. No. Don't do this. Don't look at me like this._

He buried his head in her shoulder, his entire body shaking. He was whispering, so quietly the wind stole it, but it reached Twist somehow. "Don't do this to me. Twist, don't you dare do this to me. You can't leave me alone. I know we promised and we told each other and— But you _can't do this to me."_

"It will be over." Snit appeared at her shoulder. He didn't look at Audrey, lying in the snow at Twist's side and crying out in a terrible unbroken sound. He looked right at her, his eyes nebulous as whirlpools. "It will end for you here, in the snow, at the bottom of this ravine. You will die a hero. They will carry your name back to the Warren. You will be a legend."

Twist stared at him. "You're not really Snit, are you?" All the personality that she'd admired and resented about Snit was bleeding out of him by the second, like her mind was losing grip on him. The snap, the impatience, the lecturing. Even the wry look was gone, replaced by a peaceful look that could be any emotion.

The cat—not Snit, because even after death he would have been looking out for Audrey, unable to keep his eyes off her—just looked back. Quiet. Serene. But firm somehow, like a father scolding his kit. "I am whatever is necessary to make the transition easier. Guardian. Protector. Lover. Watcher. Slider. Claw. Mother. Father. Brother. Sister. Child. I am anything you need."

"And I need Snit? Is that what you're saying?" Her mouth was so dry. "And transition… Does that mean that it's true? That I'm dying?"

The cat—the Guardian—didn't respond.

The Sliders gave no notice to the still form of Blackjack after a quick test to make sure he was dead. They left his body for the snow to cover.

Twist watched their prodding, listened to their begging, felt their touches like ghosts brushing against her fur. To the Guardian, she said, "I want you to say 'But.' I want you to say there's a way out of this for me."

The Guardian made a soft, musing noise. "You burn, don't you? Like a star."

"Don't spout garbage at me. Tell me straight: is there a way out of this for me or not?"

"Let me show you what will be, if there were. Let me show you what will happen in the coming days."

Colors blurred. Again, Twist felt that strange sensation of the ground changed, and then she was out of her body once more, up in the air like a bird. Floating.

The Sliders were a line of dots beneath her, small as ants. She thought, _I wish I were closer, _and suddenly she was, coasting along above them. There was Streak in front with Hazel at his side, Sorrow behind, then the trickle of cats following. To her shock, Flare's cats were there too, along with the head she-cat herself, stumbling along like a wounded thing. At the back, on a bed of moss, lay Twist's broken form. Someone had covered her up with rabbit pelts, to hide her misshapen legs. Declan walked alongside, eyes ahead, but every few seconds, they went to her. Watching. Waiting. Dreading.

Twist didn't have a heart, but it ached regardless.

Everything was laid bare to her. She could see everything. Emotions were curls of smoke. Hearts were flickering fires. Worries were shivers of grass in a strong wind.

Sorrow led for most of the journey. She was surefooted. She looked at the mountains and thought, _My father wanted this place his whole life but he never knew it—this place holds death and no life._ Her Claws looked to her for guidance and she gave it, shoving the guilt, the fear, the weakness down inside herself and crushing it. "Keep moving," she said, but the Claws heard her love for them, this she-cat who lied and lied for their lives, who had gambled with her own and won.

Sometimes, a cat fell out of the line, stumbled in the snow. But every time, another stopped, helped, took some of the weight and carried it for the hurting one. The kittens from Flare's group, who had never known this cold, shivered and cried.

Cascade comforted them, licked their ears, whispered stories of green and warm. When a kitten couldn't walk any longer, she bent and carried it, though Twist could feel the searing agony in the silver she-cat's neck.

Marco helped the younglings. He told them stories of his friends, of the Warren. They listened with curious ears, asking questions about them, about Whisper and Adder. They didn't ask questions when his throat closed around Max's name, or the way his eyes grew dimmer.

Iggy's bones hurt deep inside. Each step was crushed glass. But when Kaltag asked him, "Do you want to stop?" each time he replied, "I'll stop when I'm dead."

The mountain blurred. The sky moved from blue to black a hundred times, too many to keep count. The cats moved on, stopping and bundling together for warmth. The storm raged on above, tattered clouds like torn fur.

Snow faded. White vanished. Green replaced it, vibrant and beautiful as Lightfoot's eyes.

Streak sensed the change at once. He turned to the others and announced that they were almost home and the air changed at once. Cats who had been beaten down and exhausted grew excited. It was like someone had swept out all the dust and left them clean and fresh. The kittens bounced along at everybody's paws and the elderly watched them with tired affection, gently scolding when a little white kit bit too hard or when someone got tangled in someone else's legs.

The valley was in full bloom. Another spring. The first Twist had seen in what felt like forever. The mountain's slope was carpeted in lush, thick grass dotted with poppies. Their red heads danced in the breeze.

The little group grew more hopeful here. Their steps were quicker, surer. There was laughter. Finally, their bellies were full. Finally they rested without shuddering, without worrying the cold would take them in their sleep.

And still Twist lived. She watched her body move fitfully, taking mouthfuls of water she couldn't taste.

Night fell. The moon was a fat circle again, yellow as gold. And the group rested easily.

Ren was on watch. As he sat upright, silhouetted by moonlight, Violet came to his side. "I can feel them moving," she said, sitting alongside him, her belly fuller than Twist remembered. "Three, I think. Or maybe four. My mother had four." Her sorrow touched her, then, and the flicker of her life wavered. _Adder is lost and buried in the snow and he will never return home._

And Ren touched his nose to hers. "I want to name one for your brother."

Stripes was asleep. His dreams were black-and-white, full of snow. One paw was covering his nose, his wrinkled lip, as he watched Braiser climb the rock he always like to speak from, his voice a noiseless buzz. Stripes's heart raced but his mind said, _This is how a monster begins._

Flare lay awake at Blue-Eyed Jack's side, her heart a black mess of guilt and self-loathing. Jack leaned her forehead into Flare's shoulder, but that did nothing to coat the sting in the red she-cat's chest.

Sparrow took the watch next with Anole. Anole's mind was a loop of worry for Twist that almost screamed at times. Sparrow leaned his shoulder against hers, knowing what was happening inside that tortoiseshell head of hers, but she was like Twist: she didn't want comfort when she could have action. So when she asked to join him on watch, he didn't protest. He knew she needed it. He said, "You can take the south. I'll take the north," and nothing else, and Anole loved him.

And still, somehow, Twist lived.

Declan sat at her side, his paws tucked beneath his chest. The journey had aged him. His eyes looked tired as he looked at her, his chest rising evenly. His mind was quiet. His flame didn't flicker. Strong.

But he watched her and his heart ached.

Twist drifted down next to him. She was shapeless in this way, formless as mist, but she pressed her pelt against his and he breathed in, like he felt her.

_I would have died for you, _he thought to her, because after so long, so many years together, he knew she would understand him without even speaking, and she did. _I would have and you would have lived without me. But, stars above, Twist, I cannot live without you._

They reached the Warren three days later.

Lucky's shock was overwhelming. He ran out to meet them, past the others, with Viktor bounding at his side. He immediately set on Sorrow, his hackles up, but Streak explained it all. Viktor looked at his son like he'd never seen him before, appreciation and pride in his eye, love burning stronger when Violet appeared and Kite nearly tackled her before she realized her condition, but it slipped away when he looked for his remaining son.

Whisper, tall and lithe and stronger than Twist remembered, appeared at the gate. She said the words Viktor was screaming in his head: "Where's Adder?"

Kite knew. She'd known. As soon as she watched three of her children leave, she'd known one wouldn't come back. And she had prayed and wished and sobbed, but she'd known, as mothers do.

The others surrounded them inside the Warren. They took stock. They realized the missing numbers, the ones who had been added. The Claws were looked upon with outright suspicion, Flare's cats with confusion. Sorrow, reviled, hated, was the target of their venom, Sorrow who had cut out her own eye to save her cats, Sorrow, who had snuck into the viper's nest for a chance of killing the snake, Sorrow, who had orchestrated the turning of the tide, who had saved them all somehow from Blackjack's revenge.

Sorrow lifted her head against their whispers and looked down her nose at them.

Flint took Twist into his den at once, looking dazed, blind as a kit. His flame flickered weakly, his mind circling one image, over and over again, of Max as a newborn kitten in his paws, his little brother, his only other kin, and Flint himself saying to their foster mother Lilac, "He's going to be so strong when he grows up. He's going to be a warrior."

"Her body is so damaged," he said to Declan, who had not spoken to anybody, not even Viktor or River or Lucky. He hadn't spoken in days. "I've reset her hind leg and tended to her broken ribs, but I don't know if there's anything else than can be done."

Now he did. He opened his mouth. His voice was creaky, but sure. "She's lasted a month. She'll live. She's Twist."

Twist took water and nothing else. Her mind stayed out here, adrift. Declan stayed down there, adrift.

The sun rose and sank. When the moon came out, and all the stars, Declan remained awake, down here in the healer's den. Hazel brought him prey but he ate little, spoke less. "I love her, too," Hazel whispered. "But you can't do this to yourself, Declan."

Declan said nothing.

Hazel stayed that night. Streak joined her halfway, after consoling his mother, his sister. He took Declan aside and convinced him to get some sleep just down the hall. "It'll be good for Hazel to be alone with her for a while," he said, out of earshot. "Let her have some time. I'll stay with you."

Declan agreed, but he pushed his nose into Twist's fur for just a second before he went.

"I love you," he whispered, everything in him shaking.

Twist didn't have eyes, but she closed them, and wished she could feel his touch.

Hazel was quiet for a long time. Twist floated here, bodiless, and watched her daughter mourn.

"You can't," she said, so quietly Twist would have missed it if she had ears. "You can't do this. You can't save us and then _die." _She sucked in a shaky breath. "Flint says you're dying. That you haven't eaten in so long that your body is shutting down. That you'll starve before you die of your injuries. That's _pathetic, _Twist. You're going to take out the evilest cat we've ever known and then die of starvation? Come on."

Angry. Hazel was always angry. But now her anger was grounded. It wasn't the detached anger of a growing kit. She was an adult now, a fully-grown she-cat, strong in body, heart, mind. She had killed. She had watched her birth mother leave her life without resentment, but understanding. She was no longer the kit that had lain at Twist's chest, no. But that was right. It was good.

Hazel looked up with glittering, half-narrowed eyes. She watched the weak rise and fall of Twist's chest, the way her eyes twitched beneath the lids. She leaned in closer. "You have to live. You don't have a choice. When I was growing up, you always ordered me. Now I'm ordering you. _Live."_

Twist drifted. Hazel stayed still.

The next day, Spirit arrived with Teddy.

Teddy went to Declan and Spirit went to Twist.

Anole came to sit next to Hazel, resting a gentle paw on her back, while Spirit lapped at Twist's fur. Nobody said anything. When Spirit finished with Twist, she moved onto Hazel, and thought, _Someone will have to take care of Twist's girl from now on and that someone will be me._

Hazel lay still and let Spirit tend to her, closing her eyes to slits. Anole sat over Twist's prone body and trembled a little bit, not quite able to look at her sister, still and quiet on the ground.

Out in the Warren, life continued. Flare bent to Lucky, relinquishing her fragile control over her cats. Some resented her for backing down. Others pitied her. Whatever the case, they ceased being Flare's cats and started being Sliders, beginning their month of service to their new allegiance.

The Claws took longer to adjust. For a while, they stood apart, bristling, nervous, before one took the first step. Kale. When one of the mountain kittens was play-hunting with a Slider kitten, he bent down and corrected their posture, demonstrating a proper stance. River watched Kale closely, tail bristling, before he relaxed and said, "No, you're doing it wrong. Look, it's like this," and moved into position next to him.

The Guardian's voice spoke to her. It felt like forever and nothing at the same time since he'd spoken last. _After a lightning strike, a tree can grow back together. After a fire, the forest comes back stronger, greener, more fertile. After a snowfall, the earth bursts into flower when spring comes._

And Twist said,_ I am not a tree or a forest or the earth._

_ No, _he replied. _You are more._

When the fire in Twist began to weaken, she felt it. The days drifted by more quickly, swifter than blinks. They fed her a mush of leaves and blood mixed with water, but her weight plummeted. Frail as a bundle of twigs.

Declan faded, too.

_See how he loves you, _the Guardian said. _See how he mourns you._

_He'll die if he keeps this up. He can't die. What about Hazel? What about the Sliders? They need him._

_ They say the same about you._

Twist looked at the Guardian. He still looked like Snit. Behind him, distantly, she could see the glow of the orange sun. Others walked along in the light's path, their silhouettes burning into the ground like molten gold. A little white tom with no ears. A burly gray tomcat with a scarred pelt. A sleek gray tabby with kitten blue eyes. A she-cat with a pelt of shadow and ice with eyes as sharp as poison.

Waiting to see if she was coming along with them.

The fire in Twist faltered.

When it came time, Declan was there. He knew. He could sense it. He lay beside her and watched her face with tired, knowing eyes. His face had new shadows beneath the cheekbones, in spaces beneath his eyes. Each blink was slow, defeated, exhausted.

"I've thought about it," he said quietly. "And I've decided that it's okay. You can let go, if you want to. If that's what you really want, you can go. You've done your work. You've done more. You deserve to be at peace now." He looked down. "I should say that. I should be selfless for you. But I _can't."_

His voice cracked along with Twist's invisible heart. She leaned towards him, settling beside him as he buried his head in his paws, taking in sharp breaths.

"I don't want you to go. I don't want to be alone. You've held on for so long, Twist. You can hold on for longer. Can't you? Can't you keep going? You're strong. Stars, you're the strongest cat I know. Who else would have done what you did? Who else would have leapt in the path like that? I…I couldn't even move. I just stood there. Blackjack would have killed me, but you saved me."

He leaned over to her, reaching out a paw to touch her face. "You saved me," he whispered, roving over her face like he was trying to memorize it. "Just like the first time we met. Do you remember? I almost fell into the river and you saved me. You didn't even _know _me. And since then, you've saved me every day. I don't think I ever told you why I was in the mountains that day. I went up there and hoped I would never come down because of what I did to Leo. I killed him, Twist. I didn't deserve to live. I was nothing, less than nothing. I wanted to die.

"But then you came out of nowhere. You pulled me back from that edge. You saved my life." His throat worked and he had to stop for a moment. "I thought it was a sign. That I was meant to do something greater than die in the mountains. That I could help someone. And then when I fell in love with you, I thought you _were _that sign. You were sent to save me. And you did. More times than I can count.

"That's why… That's why I have to ask you. One more time." He closed his eyes tight and Twist reached out to lay an invisible paw over his. When he opened them, they were soft, raw, aching. "I need you to save me again. I can't do this without you. I'm not…strong enough. And it's the most selfish thing I'll ever ask you to do, but I need you to do it. I _need _you. I love you. You are everything I've ever wanted and everything I've been lucky enough to have. You took me out of the ashes and made me feel like I was worth something. You loved me, despite my mistakes, my stupidity, my selfishness. You saw the potential in me. I never would have done half the things I did without you at my side. Without you being the voice in my head. Without you with me every step of the way. Guiding me. Leading me."

He bent his head once more so that Twist couldn't see his face.

"Flint says you'll never be the same if you wake up. You'll never climb a tree. You'll never hunt again. You'll never be able to jump or run or walk very far. You'll always have a limp. You might forget some things sometimes. You'll need help for the rest of your life. It's not going to be the same as it was, but one thing will: you and me. That's never going to change. That's all I can promise you. I know it's not much, but it's all I have to offer." Declan stretched out his paws to her, brushing her with just the tips of his toes, and every where he touched felt like a spark of fire in her. In a voice so quiet it was like the wind, he said, "So please, Twist, my darling, my love—come back to me. Please."

The Guardian was with her, as he had been for weeks. _It is time._

Twist said desperately, _Show me the future again. I want to see it._

_It will bring you pain._

_I don't care._

_It will cause you heartache._

_Didn't you hear what I said?_

The Guardian complied.

It wasn't before, when time felt sped up. It wasn't Declan's sea. It was a flash of images, too quick to process. A den with a warm nest of feathers and fur. A group of young cats hunting, laughing, with Streak in the lead. Hazel stalking a bird, her beautiful eyes full of concentration. Lucky speaking from the machine paw tower to the Claws, warmth in his eyes.

Then further. A white kit with marked eyes and a striped tail, looking up at her from the lap of her forepaws. Declan against the setting sun with a young tom beside him, ruffled pelts the exact same shade. The feeling of old bones full of creaky memories. Kittens playing without thinking of who was Claw or Slider, because the words didn't matter anymore. Declan turning to her with laughing eyes, gray in his muzzle.

And then the sea once more. But this time, she ran towards it, towards what she knew was waiting there.

_You will go there eventually, _the Guardian said in his silent voice.

Twist said, _Eventually isn't now._

_It could be._

_It's not. Is it?_

The Guardian just watched with Snit's eyes, but she thought she detected some appreciation in them.

When he faded, she hardly noticed. The world was loud again, all ragged breathing and dripping water. The ground was hard beneath her back, even harder on her broken leg. When she breathed in deeply, it felt like breathing for the first time, even as her ribs protested the strain.

The ragged breathing stopped. "Twist?" Declan asked hesitantly, holding his breath. "Twist, can you hear me? Are you awake?"

Twist opened her eyes and whispered, "Yes."

* * *

><p><strong>The end.<strong>

**It's been a long ride! Almost four years between Sidestep and Float. Twist and Declan have been with me through some of my highest highs and lowest lows, and I'm so glad that I got to share them with others, to have other people love them like I do. **

**This will be the end of my writing on . I've been a member for almost six years here, and the experiences and fun I've had on this site are unparalleled, but it's time for me to focus on my professional writing. I wouldn't trade these years for anything.**

**Thank you to all the readers who have stuck with me through thick and thin, through terrible stories about Thistleclaw that I wrote while high on chocolate and stories about Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze, for staying with me through my _Hunger Games _and _Pokemon _phase, for remaining patient with me as I filibustered about love and loyalty and killed off so many characters. Thank you for pouring so much love into this story about one background character from _Outcast. _Thank you for believing in me and staying with me even when I didn't update for months on end. You guys are the best.**

**Writing Sidestep and Float has meant so much to me. I've learned more about writing from these two fics than I have from anything I've ever written. I'm going to miss it, and miss my characters, and miss my readers most of all.**

**Thank you. Thank you all so much. I hope that you've enjoyed reading.**

**Here's signing off for the last time!**

**Shadow**


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